


6

by casualsamurai



Series: Black Robes & Swords [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 74,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9568787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualsamurai/pseuds/casualsamurai
Summary: It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.





	1. Prologue: A Simple Task

**Author's Note:**

> I finally decided to venture on here, so I'm bringing this over from my ff.net account. I'm always working on the next chapter, it just takes ages T_T

The moon hung low, stark white against the black of the sky.

It gave off a surprising amount of light, considering it was an ever-present sliver, a permanent crescent, never growing either way. Slowly and silently, the light fell on the soft, cold sands below – a barren landscape save for a handful of thin, silver trees, mere finger-bones growing out of the infertile soil, and the large domed structure, partly in ruins, but the only evidence of inhabitation nonetheless. A soft whisper of a breeze stirred the grey clouds above, before going to collect the ashes, newly-released, of the slender form that was quickly disintegrating, to scatter them across the wasteland.

She had watched the whole scene unfold from behind some discarded rubble.

Her orders upon arrival to Hueco Mundo had been clear: scout ahead and determine the location of the Substitute Shinigami, disentangle him from whatever mess he had currently stuck his foot into, and rush him off to the world of the living to join in the fight against Aizen. The captains would deal with the inevitable welcoming party that was expected to show up, once the arrancar sensed their presence.

She had had every intention of taking over Kurosaki's battle for him after racing up to the roof where she felt his _reiatsu_ spiking wildly, despite knowing full well that she was no match for his opponent and would sustain near-fatal injuries in the best of scenarios. Perhaps Kurosaki's friends would even assist her, knocking him out and carrying him off for her if he resisted, while she kept the hollow busy.

In between the blasts of wind and _cero_ , the breaking stone columns and the biting words coming out of the espada's mouth, she had thought, momentarily, that she had finally found her opening. Kurosaki had just been flung aside with a single whip of the espada's tail, falling right at Inoue's feet. It was perfect. She could cut in and distract the espada, Inoue could heal Kurosaki, and they could take the quincy and be on their way to where Kurosaki was truly needed. But then this boy – who had her captain tearing out his hair on a daily basis (behind closed doors and in the privacy of his office, of course) – had gone and transformed into _that_. This battle, most definitely, had now turned into one far above her level and, unlike most of her fellow shinigami officers, she was mature enough to admit it. She thought that even Captain Kuchiki would understand if, at this point, she just stayed back and observed.

So, Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division of the Gotei Thirteen, hid herself behind some rocks and watched.

She didn't miss when Kurosaki lost complete control of himself and turned on his quincy friend, driving his sword through the other boy's gut and blowing him back like a sheet of paper. Nor did she miss that he was about to do the same to the orange-haired girl they had all come to rescue as she made her way to the crumpled figure, whose white clothes were turning red with each passing moment.

Seeing Kurosaki so far gone that he was about to attack the very person he was fighting so desperately to save, Hoshi's hand flew to the sword at her hip and she dug her toes into the ground, ready to spring.

But the espada beat her to it. Breathing heavily and more than half dead, the hollow had willed himself off of the ground and had severed one of Kurosaki's horns. Whether he knew that this would reverse the transformation, or whether he was acting out of pure instinct, or even if it was merely revenge for the cutting off of his own horn just moments before, Hoshi didn't know; but she didn't miss the fact that it was the direct threat to Inoue's life that had moved the espada ( _Ulquiorra,_ she had heard them call him) to action.

And she most certainly didn't miss the quiet words exchanged between Inoue and her late espada captor, nor the hands that were raised and reaching for one another in a futile attempt to – what, exactly? Hoshi couldn't be sure what prompted their actions, but the desperation and sadness they conveyed were palpable in the heavy air around them.

Kurosaki had quickly turned his attention to his injured friend once the threat of the espada had disappeared, so he may not have noticed that Inoue kept her hand raised far longer than necessary; the ashes had all been blown away some time ago. And when he asked her to heal Ishida, it took several attempts to get her attention – whereupon she quickly seemed to snap back into the girl they were all acquainted with, chattering away in her bubbly voice and laughing everyone's concerns away.

Hoshi didn't know Inoue all that well, or any of that group for that matter – her familiarity with them was limited to the handful of times Renji, Yumichika and the others had dragged her to the living world to 'have fun' on her precious days off, and to any thoughts voiced out loud on the matter by Captain Kuchiki. But, surely, the fact that she hadn't thrown herself upon her quincy friend immediately to tend to his wounds was a little uncharacteristic. And Hoshi's hiding spot was just _that_ bit too far away to be able to tell properly, but she thought she could hear a slight strain in the girl's voice as she talked; there may have been a faint glaze across her eyes, too.

Kurosaki was already contemplating his next battle, but even without all the spiritual pressures flaring up from below, Hoshi doubted he would have noticed the change in Inoue. And the quincy – she had heard that he was the most level-headed and perceptive of the group – had lost far too much blood to be able to even think straight.

She waited for them to leave – first Kurosaki plummeting off the roof like Zaraki was on his heels, and then Ishida and Inoue less hurriedly, descending on one of the quincy's… well, whatever that ability was.

Stepping out from behind the rubble, Hoshi finally allowed her body to relax. Slender shoulders drooped and soft eyes closed, as her head tilted forward slightly and she let out a long sigh.

A moment later, inhaling with new-found determination, she looked down at the _zanpakutō_ firmly bound to her waist. She frowned slightly, thin eyebrows knitting together, and then turned her gaze downwards still, over the edge of the roof to where Kurosaki had disappeared.

She'd have to go after him, of course, no question about that. Orders were orders. But, surely, a few minutes lingering up here would make no difference.

Hoshi fingered the hilt of the sword lightly, raising her eyes to the dark sky above her as though searching for something. She was not superstitious by nature – in fact, she was fairly certain that displaying an affinity towards logic and critical thinking, rather than entertaining any sort of fatalistic notions, was an unofficial requirement for being a member of the Sixth – but what were the chances of someone wielding the specific abilities of her _zanpakutō_ to happen upon this scene?

Had the espada merely been cut down or purified by a _zanpakutō_ or, hell, even eaten by another hollow – that would have been different. But he had disintegrated into ashes and floated off into the air. And she, whose _zanpakutō_ could separate particles from each other at her choosing and bring them together, rearrange them, even move whole objects by means of them in a form of telekinesis, had been standing _right here._

_Ridiculous,_ Captain Kuchiki would have said.

And it was. Hoshi had to agree with the mental specter of her superior.

It _had_ been some time since the espada ( _Ulquiorra,_ she reminded herself) had disintegrated, and there was no guarantee she would be able to retrieve each and every atom that had comprised him. And even if she did, then what? Present the ashes to Inoue? She supposed the girl could always "heal" or "reject" them or whatever it was her power did. And if it failed, then what? Let the girl hold on to them as a morbid keepsake? Glue him back together with some of that soul-sticking glue from Urahara's shop?

Hoshi sighed again. The original idea that had struck her upon witnessing Ulquiorra's demise and Inoue's reaction to it had been to collect the espada's remains and regenerate him by some means, but now that she actually stopped to think about it, it was fast becoming a ludicrous prospect.

And besides, what reason could she possibly give her captain, the Captain-Commander, and the rest of the Gotei Thirteen for reviving an arrancar?

If she were honest with herself, her real motivation was the simplest of them all: she wanted to see if she could do it.

It was a chance to truly test the limits of her powers; powers which she often felt were useless, especially in battle, and completely lacking in comparison to everyone else's. Her friends, fellow third seats, even bloody Hanatarō – they had all sharpened their skills in leaps and bounds since that first day when Kurosaki and his group showed up at the gates of Seireitei and proceeded to send the whole Gotei into disarray forevermore.

In the meantime, Hoshi, while certainly not _incompetent_ by any means, was very much stuck. She could see absolutely no improvement in her technique or power, even after hours upon hours of training and practice. Renji, who had pestered a confession on the matter out of her one day when she hadn't been quick enough to hide her grumpy expression, had spouted some nonsense about learning being a process of hills and plateaus. He had said that she was currently on a plateau but to give it some time, and he had no doubt she'd work past it. Hoshi shook her head exasperatedly at the memory of the loud redhead slapping a hand on her back and giving her a thumbs up. Her lack of progress had been fast becoming a severe annoyance. Wasn't it only reasonable, then, that she wanted to flex her muscles a bit?

Hoshi mentally snorted. She doubted that would fly with anyone except possibly her former captain, Kurotsuchi.

On the other hand, if the unthinkable and yet very real, very frightening possibility of Aizen winning were to happen, and they _were_ pushed back, forced to retreat and regroup in Soul Society, it could prove quite useful to have such a high-ranking espada on their side. Any information he had that could be used against Aizen would be invaluable. He might even be willing to share such intelligence of his own accord, if his last words and demeanor were any indication. And certainly, the Shinigami Research and Development Institute, particularly its current president, would think several New Years' had come early all at once.

_Why don't you see whether you_ can _collect his remains, first, before scampering about and jumping to conclusions you have absolutely no basis for? The rest can come later,_ a voice in her head suggested. It sounded suspiciously like said president's.

_True enough,_ Hoshi supposed. It wasn't as though the espada would be revived instantly upon the collection of his ashes, if she were able to gather them. And there was also the matter of Kurosaki. She'd wasted more time up here than she had planned, and she still had to go retrieve him.

Hoshi drew out her sword in front of her. The sharp blade glinted in the strange, eternal moonlight.

"Winnow, Jishinha."


	2. Double Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

"I must be out of my mind," Hoshi mumbled to herself as she flash-stepped carefully down the empty streets of Seireitei. Other than a few guards stationed at the regular posts, the only people wandering around this time of night were those out for drinks with friends, and thus otherwise occupied.

The Winter War had come to an end.

Aizen had been apprehended and thrown into the deep reaches of Muken under the First Division barracks. Karakura Town had been returned to its proper location, with most of its human inhabitants not remembering a single thing. And a pact of temporary non-aggression had been reached with Tier Harribel, the now _de facto_ ruler of Hueco Mundo. Harribel had returned to her world with her fracción and any other remaining arrancar, after Inoue had healed the near-fatal wounds she had received from Aizen; everyone hoped that, together with the sensibility and restraint she displayed (for a hollow, at least), there would now be some measure of peace.

In Soul Society, everyone had been picking up the pieces of their lives as well as could be expected. Some, like Renji and Shūhei, and even Captain Hitsugaya, were training relentlessly in an effort to be better prepared for the next time; others, like Rangiku and Hinamori, would go off on their own for hours, nowhere to be found. It was probably better that way – no one really knew what to say to either. And then you had the Eleventh Division; one step inside their barracks, and you'd never know anything had been out of place to begin with.

Return to the usual day to day routine of the Gotei Thirteen had not been achieved quite yet. Priority was placed on repairing the damage to both Karakura Town and Seireitei, as well as ensuring that all those who had sustained injuries were healed. As such, rules and regulations were lax, and Seireitei fell into a pattern of late nights, late mornings, and more mingling between the divisions than was the norm. No one seemed to mind or to be hard-pressed to return things to their regular state. The Captain-Commander's only comment on the subject had been addressed to the captains of the Sixth, Eighth, and Eleventh Divisions, reprimanding them for losing their _haori_. The laid-back atmosphere must have affected them too, because Captain Kuchiki had spoken out of turn back _at_ the Captain-Commander, and Captain Ukitake had eavesdropped on the whole conversation from outside on the balcony like a child.

The days were filled by the sounds of hammers and the ever-present repair crews, running feet, and the occasional singing of metal against metal. And the nights… well, the nights were like this.

Quiet laughter and empty streets.

But even so…

_You'd think that with all the invasions around here lately, they would have stepped up security. Even just a little bit._ Hoshi briefly shook her head at the thought.

With a soft tap of sandals against paved stone, she landed in the courtyard of the Twelfth Division barracks. Sticking to the shadows and carefully avoiding all of the outdoor security points, she made her way to one of the storerooms. Her goal was the particle accelerator that was located in the far back of Depot Two, currently gathering dust from neglect and disuse.

After returning to Soul Society, Hoshi had looked into the matter of Ulquiorra, and whether it was possible to revive him. There were several ways she could go about attempting it, and she had settled on the simplest first. Granted, her reason of using him for his information against Aizen was completely invalid now, but what else was she supposed to do with his ashes, her inner scientist argued? Armed with her research articles and her previous experience as a member of the Twelfth Division, she had decided it was worth a try.

Pushing stray peach-colored bangs out of her eyes, she easily disarmed the alarm on the door. Kurotsuchi was in the habit of changing the passwords and codes around his division as often as he changed his appearance, but the older buildings that housed the more mundane things usually escaped his obsessive compulsive behavior – a fact she had been counting on.

She picked the lock open and snuck in. Quickly identifying the security cameras inside and avoiding them, Hoshi proceeded to navigate carefully around the large objects strewn everywhere, slowly drawing closer to her objective.

* * *

 

A knock sounded on the door of his quarters. Mayuri cracked it open and peered out.

"Here are the reports you requested, Captain," Akon said, handing over several papers.

"Thank you, 'Kon," Mayuri replied, taking the offered documents and quickly scanning them. "The lights are off in the labs?"

"Yes, sir."

"All waste has been disposed of in the proper containers? All glassware and surfaces cleaned? Ventilation turned on? Computers shut down?" Mayuri continued.

"The doors are locked and the security system has been enabled, yes, sir," Akon finished almost mechanically. It was the same routine every night.

"Very well. You may retire, 'Kon," Mayuri said dismissively, waving him off.

"Good night, Captain." With a quick bow, Akon left.

Shutting the door absent-mindedly, Mayuri flipped through the pages again and then set them aside on top of other stacks of paper, to browse through in more detail later. With that last bit of business taken care of, he proceeded to take a steaming hot bath, remove his face for the day, and settle down on his bed with his laptop, reference materials, and a freshly brewed cup of tea.

His _Medicine for the Brain_ article series, published in the _Seireitei Communication_ magazine, was becoming increasingly popular – something that made him slightly giddy with excitement, though he'd sooner eat a hollow than admit as much to anyone. He had been looking forward to working on his next batch of articles all day. Between facilitating the repairs ( _These brainless plebeians couldn't do a thing on their own_ ), staying on top of monitoring spiritual stability in the living world now that the hollow's power-structure had collapsed, and lugging back research material from Hueco Mundo, trying to find space for it all (though, admittedly, the last problem was all of his own making), Mayuri hadn't spent a single moment that day on things that actually _mattered._ It was always, 'fix this, repair that, make this work' – redundant nonsense that he should not be bothered with in the first place.

Taking a quick sip of his tea and setting it down to the side, Mayuri stretched his arms in front of him. He placed his hands on the keyboard, fingers poised to start typing.

The tone of an alarm sounded from his desk.

Golden eyes flickered to the control panel situated on the wall right above it, which showed a blinking red light next to the label marked Depot Two.

His first reaction was to be furious. How _dare_ someone interrupt his valuable private time like this?! Flinging papers in the air, he stormed over to his desk, ready to page Akon to go apprehend the intruder and throw him into one of the garbage pits.

He quickly regained his composure, however, as thoughts flashed at high speed across his mind. His eyes narrowed at the details of the notification that showed up right below the flashing light. The intruder bypassed the first four alarms? Then it must be someone who knew their way around the Twelfth Division.

Perhaps he should go and settle this himself.

Laptop discarded and tea forgotten, Mayuri grabbed his zanpakutō and ran out of his quarters.

He was so incensed with this development that he didn't even bother with the makeup.

* * *

 

She was so engrossed in what she was doing, that it took a moment for Hoshi to register the slight sound behind her. She spun around quickly, just barely managing to dodge the edge of a blade aimed right at her throat. The cramped storeroom made it difficult to move around in, and, combined with the disadvantage of surprise, it was no wonder she ended up being pinned down on the floor by her attacker.

"What, pray tell, do you think you are doing in my lab?"

The voice clearly identified said attacker as the captain of the Twelfth Division, though Hoshi couldn't see his face at all in the darkness of the room. Being caught had always been a possibility, but she had never imagined that Kurotsuchi himself would be the one to do it.

She was going to die.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

She answered reluctantly, cringing on the inside. "Third Seat Hoshi Utagawa of the Sixth Division, Captain." Hoshi had no doubt that he remembered her very clearly from her days in his squad; it hadn't been that long ago, and the man had a memory that could make machines green with envy. And he would probably be even less forgiving of someone who had started their tenure in the Gotei Thirteen under his command.

"I trust you have a very, _very_ good reason for this," he hissed, his grip on her neck never wavering.

"I…" She faltered, momentarily, trying to draw both enough courage and breath to answer. "I needed to use the particle accelerator. Sir."

He was going to kill her.

A pause. She could almost hear him blinking.

"And you simply couldn't go through the proper protocols to gain access?" His tone had lost some of the biting rage, and moved more towards sarcasm and mockery.

_That's… progress? Maybe I'll only lose a limb instead of my head._

"No, sir, I don't think I would have been granted approval," she replied, as evenly as she could.

"Oho? And why is that?" Hoshi could hear the barest trace of curiosity crawling into Kurotsuchi's voice.

There was no point in lying, and she hoped that her answer would pique his interest enough to at least guarantee her life. That's as far as her realistic optimism allowed her to go. "I doubt that the Central Forty-Six would approve my request to use the particle accelerator to experimentally regenerate a dead espada."

The fingers around Hoshi's neck tightened their iron grip, and all of a sudden she found herself forcibly lifted and flung into the dim light coming in through the closest window.

Hoshi forced her eyes open to meet Kurotsuchi's. She may have been terrified, yes, but she refused to let herself cower so blatantly.

That she was taken aback would be an understatement.

She had known, of course, that the garish patterns with which he insisted on decorating his face were makeup – and not a mask, as many who did not know him assumed – since that day when Rin had tripped over some oversized tubing in the labs while doing his coffee and tea rounds. The beverages had splashed all over Kurotsuchi's face, causing the makeup to run and Rin to faint out of sheer fright on the spot. There had been much ill-concealed sniggering as Kurotsuchi had rushed out of the room, yelling at the top of his voice. Naturally, the laughter had died immediately upon his return and the announcement that they would _all_ have to stay through the night and scrub out the old mod soul tanks that had been gathering mold since before Urahara's days. Still, the physical confirmation that Mayuri Kurotsuchi had a normal face under all his accoutrements came as a shock. The fact that it wasn't even a bad-looking face by any means, was only slightly less of one.

Kurotsuchi had been studying her closely, blue bangs hanging haphazardly over gold eyes and unexpectedly tan skin. "I see. Follow me, Utagawa."

Without another word, he dropped her and turned on his heel.

Hoshi bit back a string of curses and, rubbing her head, got up and followed him. She quickly noted that, instead of going outside and to the Captain-Commander's barracks, they were heading deeper into the Twelfth Division buildings.

After what seemed an eternity, Kurotsuchi opened a door and ushered her in.

Light wood, clean lines, very minimal furnishings – and every available surface completely covered with countless books and precarious stacks of paper. Small scraps, wires and electronic equipment, and stray pens littered what little was left of the space. She was preoccupied with taking in her surroundings, so she almost missed his question.

"Would you like some tea?"

"I, well, uh… what?" Hoshi scrambled for words until she realized what, precisely, Kurotsuchi had said. _Is he serious?_

"Tea," Kurotsuchi repeated impatiently, "Would you like some? Not a difficult question, I find."

"Uh, no, thank you, Captain." Hoshi instinctively drew back from him. _Why the hell is he offering me tea?_ There was absolutely no way she was ingesting _anything_ that the captain of the Twelfth Division offered her.

"Oh? Too bad, I already poured it," he said, not sounding sorry at all, and shoved the cup in question into her hands.

Hoshi looked at it warily, slate-blue eyes trying to assess its true nature. _Regular tea? Or deadly poison?_

"I have not tampered with it, if that's what you're worrying about," Kurotsuchi said disinterestedly, motioning for her to sit on one of the chairs as he lowered himself onto the couch. "Just plain old tea. I don't like interfering with my test subjects in ways that will affect the data; unless they are being uncooperative, of course. You won't be uncooperative, will you?"

"… no, sir." She still wasn't touching the tea, though.

"Excellent. These are my private quarters, so there is absolutely no chance of anyone overhearing our conversation. Now," he steepled his fingers and leaned forward with a wide smile. "Tell me everything."

Hoshi did as she was told, not that she had much choice in the matter.

After she finished, she waited for his yelling, his threats, for him to summon Nemu to carry her off to the prison ward, or perhaps drill a hole through her head.

She pictured Captain Kuchiki's expression upon finding out that she had been arrested – after the brilliant track record with both Rukia and Renji, she could well imagine that having his third seat tossed in jail too would be the last straw for him.

_I really don't think any other squad has had as many arrests among its officers. Well, maybe the Third Division, but they're not really a sterling example to follow._

"– to Organic Research Lab Nine, that way I can proceed uninterrupted and with no fear of discovery. In return for the information you so generously shared with me, I will allow you access to that room and you may assist me once your duties to your own division have been completed for the day, with the obvious stipulation that no one finds out and you are not followed. It is always useful to have extra hands available to do the menial work." Kurotsuchi tapped his chin in thought. "Does that sound fair, Utagawa?"

"Captain?" Hoshi ventured, completely puzzled. "… I don't understand, aren't you turning me in?"

"Turn you in? And pass up this opportunity to study the composition of such a unique espada on a molecular level? How utterly ridiculous!" Kurotsuchi looked positively horrified at the notion. "You will come by the lab tomorrow evening and ask for Akon. He will bring you to me and I will give you a copy of the pass to the lab room. Your reason for visiting the Research and Development Institute I will leave to your imagining. Do try not to disappoint me. And now I have much to do, so if you will hand over the pouch –" he leaned forward and unceremoniously grabbed the ashes from her hand "– I will bid you goodnight."

With that, Hoshi was dismissed and essentially thrown out of the Twelfth Division's building complex. She was far too relieved at the turn of events to point out to Kurotsuchi the utter absurdity of granting her permission to partake in a project that had been hers to begin with.

* * *

 

Four pairs of eyes stared at the door of Organic Research Lab Nine.

"Aaaaaaah," Rin complained loudly. "The Captain's been using that sign a lot lately." He continued staring at the placard hung under the painted lab number on the door, as though that might make it go away.

The threatening words of _'No admittance! Come in and I'll kill you!'_ however, persisted.

"I really need him to look at these readings and give me the go ahead before I continue!" Kuna was practically tearing at her hair, pulling on her braids in frustration.

"You're not the only one," Hiyosu supplied. "How long has he been in there?"

"He was already in there when I arrived this morning." Kuna turned to face him. She looked down at the ground slightly abashed before she continued, one foot tracing patterns on the floor. "I… I was too afraid to knock so I just went about my business."

"You know anything about this?" Hiyosu asked Nemu, who had been quietly standing off to the side of their little group gathered in the hallway, trying to puzzle out their captain's latest fit of weirdness.

"No, nothing," she replied. "It is not uncommon for Mayuri-sama not to share things with me, but it is a little strange that it seems to have happened overnight. Something must have caught his interest."

Conversation stopped as Akon rounded the corner, with a cup of coffee in hand. He sighed when he saw them gathered there.

"He's _still_ in there?"

"Yeah," Hiyosu answered, backed up by two brown-haired nodding heads.

"I would volunteer to go inside, but I'm due for a lieutenants' meeting shortly," Nemu said, pulling out a device from her pocket to check the time on it. "And if Mayuri-sama is in one of his moods I will certainly be late to it."

Hiyosu sighed. "What should we do, Akon?"

Before Akon could reply, a shinigami – one of the newer members of their division – sped towards them with arms flailing.

"Akon-san! Third Seat Utagawa-san from the Sixth Division is here!"

Akon looked at the young shinigami, who was now trying to catch his breath, before closing his eyes and sighing. "Tell her I will be right there."

The shinigami gave a quick nod and ran off again.

"Hoshi? What's she doing here?" Kuna asked excitedly. The fact that a door was standing between her and the completion of today's project was forgotten for the moment.

Rin also perked up. "Yeah, we haven't seen her in a while!"

"Beats me," Akon said, rubbing his neck. "Go back to your stations, I'll figure out something about" – he gestured with his hand towards the offending door – "all this."

As he left, heading for the main entrance of the building, he could hear Rin start to whine again, interrupted by Hiyosu's voice telling him to go be useful and make them all some tea.

_Damn it! Just one smooth day… is that too much to ask for?_ He had long since come to terms with life in the Twelfth Division, but some days really tried his patience.

Upon reaching the front door, he was assaulted by Utagawa, who had been standing there 'waiting,' pacing and fidgeting with a box under her arm.

"Good evening, Akon," she greeted, rushing towards him.

"Utagawa, good to see you. What brings you by?" he asked.

"I need to speak with Captain Kurotsuchi," she answered quickly.

Akon raised a brow. "What about?"

"It's regarding the _gikongan_ we have been using while in the world of the living. My division – well, Lieutenant Abarai and Captain Kuchiki in particular – were wondering if there was a way to make the _gikon_ blend in better with the humans. When Captain Hitsugaya's advance unit was last stationed there, they kind of… drew unnecessary attention." Utagawa paused. "Captain Kuchiki also gave me a design for a new soul candy dispenser but, uh, we don't need to discuss that right now," she mumbled quietly, one hand stuffing a paper further down into her bag. Akon thought he briefly glimpsed the tell-tale figure of Admiral Seaweed on it. "But aside from that, the candies really could use some fine-tuning."

Akon looked at her, brow furrowed. "Ah. Well, Mayuri-sama is a little… busy right now. He's got _that_ sign up, so he's not to be disturbed."

"He knows I'm coming," she pressed.

"Hmm. Well, he didn't mention anything to me about it. He might have forgotten. Then again, he has been a little difficult to communicate with today," Akon conceded.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Akon!" she argued, flinging her head back in what he assumed was exasperation. "Just take me to O.R. Lab Nine and I'll deal with it from there. My problem, not yours."

Akon sighed. "Alright, I guess. You know what you're getting into. It's your funeral."

They were walking back down the long hallway he had been in just moments before, Utagawa occasionally waving at old squad mates who greeted her, when Akon was hit with a realization.

_I never told her what lab Mayuri-sama was in._

He frowned, and gave her a sidelong glance.

"Does your visit have anything to do with why Mayuri-sama has been holed up in Lab Nine since before dawn?"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Utagawa said quickly. She turned and practically threw the box she was carrying at Akon. "I brought you guys some sweets from the world of the living."

Akon looked at the box, now in his hands. _Bribery?_ It was common knowledge that the Twelfth Division's consumption of sweets was only rivaled by Lieutenant Kusajishi. "I don't want to know what's going on, do I?"

"Did I mention, there's some western-style donuts with the cream? I know Rin loves those, so make sure he gets some," she persisted.

Akon sighed again. _Definitely bribery._ "Fine, I won't ask."

Utagawa smiled brightly as they reached the lab. "It really is for your own good."

She knocked twice on the door, before opening it and quickly ducking, almost as a matter of course, to avoid the _kidō_ aimed her way.

A voice with a hint of a sneer drifted out into the hallway. "Oh. It's you. Come in."

Utagawa entered and closed the door behind her, with a small wave at Akon.

Left with the paper box alone in the hallway, Akon stared at it for a moment before deciding to head towards the kitchen, for a glass of water and a painkiller.

He could tell a headache was on the way.

* * *

 

She entered and was immediately greeted by various pinging noises and the smell of chemicals.

Kurotsuchi was already well into the project – no surprise there. He had set up an isolation tank, had several _gigai_ at hand, and a whole bunch of notes were strewn on one of the metal tables. As she approached, she noticed that one of them was the dismantled remains of the folder that the Sixth Division had put together on all the data they had collected on Aizen's Arrancar Army. The topmost pages were those regarding Ulquiorra Cifer.

Hoshi had absolutely no idea what Kurotsuchi was currently doing, and he didn't appear to be inclined to explain at all. So she simply set her things down on the coat rack by the door, put on one of the spare lab coats and a pair of gloves, and started handing the captain whatever tools he demanded. There was little to no conversation, aside from occasional remarks and instructions, and the peach-haired shinigami resigned herself to the familiar, and yet still very uncomfortable, working conditions.

Little did she know that this would be her life for the next several weeks.

Fall was slowly ending, and it found Hoshi cranky, tired, and essentially working a double-shift. And, unlike Kurotsuchi who seemed to have near-incomprehensible levels of stamina, it was starting to show.

"I've been meaning to tell you, you look like shit," Renji commented one day.

Hoshi turned to him, a flat, unimpressed look on her face. "Gee, thanks."

"No, no," Renji tried to salvage his previous remark, "what I meant is, why do you look so tired?"

"I've been working late nights over at Research and Development," Hoshi confessed with some hesitation. She had been torn between dismissing his concerns casually or lying outright, but settled on divulging a little bit of the truth. That was probably the easiest way out.

Renji tilted his head to the right, patterned eyebrows quirking. "Why?"

"Captain Kurotsuchi said that he didn't have time to be bothered with our _gikongan_ request, and he reassigned it to Kuna and some of the others. But they're pretty hard-pressed with everything that's going on, so I've been helping them out." She shrugged, turning back to her desk to continue filing the papers in front of her.

"Well, you don't have to wear yourself out, you know. It was your suggestion in the first place, so I'm sure the captain wouldn't mind if Research and Development puts it on the back burner for a while. Besides," Renji's voice softened a little, "it's not like we'll be going to the living world as frequently anymore. There's no reason to…"

Hoshi looked up, dark eyes taking in her lieutenant, who was now staring into space.

Ichigo Kurosaki.

It was still a painful topic, despite the fact that the Shinigami Substitute hadn't lost his powers quite yet. Hoshi didn't want to press the matter, but it also afforded a good distraction from all the talk about her and her new nighttime hobby.

"Hey." She softly punched Renji in the shoulder. "It's not like he's going to have his memory wiped or anything. He just won't be able to see you. That doesn't mean you can't still go visit once in a while, I'm sure Urahara would lend you a _gigai_. Or you could just throw things at him while invisible! That'd be entertaining!"

Renji lightened up enough to laugh. "Can you imagine his face?!"

They continued talking as they wrapped up work for the day, preparing to close the office, and Renji updated Hoshi on Rukia's first mission as a lieutenant and how successful it was.

_Ah._ So _that_ was why the Captain looked almost relieved today. Hoshi had wondered why his face had been uncharacteristically relaxed, the small lines that usually surrounded his eyes and brows almost imperceptible. Not that she looked at his face often enough to know. Not at all. _Probably also why he had more of a strut to his step, but it's hard to tell all the varying degrees of pride with him._

Bidding Renji goodbye once they had locked up, Hoshi went home to drop off her things, grab a quick bite to eat, and then headed over to what she now affectionately called her 'second home.'

They had progressed much faster than she would have ever anticipated. Knowing the captain of the Twelfth Division, though, she should have expected it. She wondered if he even left the lab room some days. _Did he ever even leave the division's grounds, except for captains' meetings?_

When Hoshi had arrived the day before yesterday, Ulquiorra's form had finished completing itself – apparently his abilities of regeneration were so high that after Kurotsuchi had spun the ashes in a contraption of some kind (one that he deemed far too advanced to bother explaining to her; she had fought the urge to try and strangle him), to initiate the process, the arrancar's body had begun to weave itself back together again. This had confirmed his suspicion that Ulquiorra had never really _died_ , not in the traditional sense of the word; he merely had ceased to exist as a corporeal form, due to his body's particles dispersing.

What this meant for his mind or personality or the rest of the things that had made him an individual, Hoshi could only guess. She was half-convinced that at this point, Kurotsuchi was just sticking him with things and waiting to see what would happen. The latest trend had been to stuff him into the isolation tank and start pumping him with all sorts of fluids, nutrients and who knew what else.

"Captain, I'm going to head out," Hoshi half-mumbled, exhausted after a particularly long session. The clock on the wall read half past three in the morning. Or maybe it was quarter to five. Her eyesight was bleary.

Kurotsuchi gave no indication that he had heard her, as he continued fiddling with the dials on the large screen next to the wall of the tank.

Hoshi rolled her eyes, too tired, for once, to care about being ignored. Picking up her sword and her bag, she made for the door.

A loud crack split the silence.

Kurotsuchi's head whipped around and he immediately shot her a hostile look.

"What the hell did you do?!" he snapped.

Hoshi jumped, raising her hands in the air. "Nothing! I'm not even touching anything!" she practically yelled back.

Another crack.

They both looked at the tank situated between them, holding Ulquiorra. Hairline fractures were spreading, fast, around the glass, from the center where large breaks had formed due to the two large clawed hands pressing against the container.

The shinigami raised their eyes to the arrancar's head to find two disturbingly awake and bright yellow eyes opened wide and staring back.


	3. No Rest For The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

He lay on his back on the couch, black hair splayed messily out on the pillow she had provided for him, eyes looking up at the night sky through the window to his left.

The woman's breathing from the other room had evened out some time ago, indicating she had finally let herself fall asleep. Ulquiorra was hardly surprised – the shinigami had been clearly fatigued, and running on reserves she did not possess.

His large green eyes closed briefly, and then opened up to continue looking at the lights in the sky. Stars, he had been informed. There were no such things in Hueco Mundo. The sky he knew was a solid black – simple, stark, and unforgiving. Ulquiorra allowed himself a small sigh that would have been imperceptible to all but perhaps one certain person, had anyone been there to witness it.

_Yet one more confounding thing to ponder in this new existence,_ the arrancar thought as he contemplated the twinkling specks of light above. He was still not sure what to make of them. Or of anything, for that matter.

Ulquiorra raised his right hand until it was in front of his face, and examined it in the darkness. Fingers with dark nails flexed, slowly, and then extended forward, as if his hand moved of its own accord; as if reaching for something that was not there. The barest of creases appeared between his thick brows. He had caught himself doing that quite frequently as of late. Puzzling. It must be because that was the last motion he had executed before his death. His temporary death, as it were. Yes, that must be it, his body was simply becoming accustomed to moving like it once had, familiarizing itself with old gestures. After all, what else could it be?

Ulquiorra let his hand drop and, pulling the borrowed blanket higher, steeled himself for another night of staring at the ceiling and the prospect of the woman's disapproving noises in the morning when she found out he had not slept again.

* * *

 

_[Two days earlier.]_

The glass finally cracked under the combined pressure of his hands and his _reiatsu_ , and Ulquiorra found himself on the floor, sprawled in a rather undignified fashion but free of the thick liquid that had engulfed him.

The two shinigami before him simply stared.

The male – though it was a little difficult to assign him a gender with that ridiculously inefficient attire he was wearing – was the first to blink. "Oh. So you're awake, are you? You most certainly took your time. Quite a nuisance, but I suppose it makes no difference now." He turned his painted face away from the hollow to inspect whatever writing was showing up on the screen. Doing so revealed the large number twelve on his back, bold and black against the white of his _haori._

_This is a captain? Ludicrous._ Ulquiorra kept his thoughts to himself. He continued surveying his surroundings, his eyes quick and alert, taking stock of all possible entrances and exits, weapons, and security cameras. The shinigami showed no signs of restraining him, and he was not about to draw attention to that fact. He remained quiet and still, the only sound coming from the liquid dripping from his hair and horns, and turned his gaze to the second soul reaper present.

She stood frozen, and Ulquiorra thought he could taste a slight tinge of fear emanating from her. Understandable. He was the Cuatra Espada, after all. The woman was not a captain-level shinigami, if his reading of her spiritual pressure was accurate; his senses had started returning once he had freed himself from that vile chamber, but they were far from perfect. Perhaps an assistant, then. Certainly more sensible than her companion, whose behavior would have anyone convinced that espada appearing before him was an everyday occurrence.

"I really would appreciate if you concealed your spiritual pressure. It would be quite troublesome if the rest of the Gotei were alerted to your presence, and I can guarantee you it would not be to your benefit at all," the male's voice continued in a conversational tone, as he turned back to face him.

Ulquiorra looked at the shinigami in question. _Is he that powerful that he is unaffected by my presence? Or is he merely a fool?_ Other than Aizen-sama, Tousen and Ichimaru, Ulquiorra had never met any of the so-called shinigami captains. Given that those three were a significant exception to the norm, the espada considered the possibility that perhaps _this_ is what captains were like. Eccentric, overconfident, and wordy, like the one in front of him.

Ulquiorra did not move.

"Are you unable to understand me?" the painted shinigami asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"No," Ulquiorra answered simply. "What I am unable to understand is the situation I find myself in."

The man nodded. "Yes, yes, that's only to be expected. I will explain it all to you in due time, once we can be sure that your sudden emergence here remains undetected." He appeared to be waiting for something, and looked expectantly at the arrancar.

Still, Ulquiorra hesitated. Even like this, in his _segunda etapa_ , he felt incredibly weak. Were he to seal his hollow powers away and revert to his more humanoid form, he would be all the weaker.

"Oh, my, don't tell me you think we're going to attack you," the captain said, with what could barely pass for a smile stretching across his face. Ulquiorra was the first to admit that he had absolutely no grasp (stemming from a lack of interest, of course) on facial expressions or the feelings they were meant to convey, but even so this 'smile' was too wide and full of teeth. "My dear hollow, we just finished bringing you back! You have nothing to fear from us, I assure you. That is, unless you attack us first."

They appeared to be at an impasse, then. Eyes flitting between the two shinigami – the clearly unbalanced captain and the woman who looked to be caught between unease and exasperation – Ulquiorra weighed his options. Quickly deciding that taking on two shinigami, if the need arose, in his sealed state was marginally better than to risk drawing in and confronting whoever else was around, he let himself relax a fraction; just enough to begin reverting into his most customary form.

Once the transformation was complete, he looked down at his body. He hadn't felt cold, exactly (hollow didn't experience this sensation quite like the other races), but he could feel the air against large portions of his skin. A glance revealed that his once pristine clothes had returned tattered, barely covering his body.

This prompted the female shinigami to finally move. Glancing over to her superior and, presumably, not finding what she was looking for, she rolled her eyes and approached the prone arrancar slowly. She swung off the long white lab coat she was wearing over her shinigami clothes and offered it to him. Ulquiorra spent a moment looking at her, an attempt to gauge her intentions, and then accepted the coat with a curt nod of his head. Draping it over himself, he tried to stand up, shakily.

A hand shot out and held him steady. The woman looked as surprised at the action as he did. She must have committed it involuntarily.

_Unexpected,_ Ulquiorra thought as he studied her face.

Though what _should_ be expected in this particular situation, he was really at a loss for. He was supposed to be dead. The last thing he remembered was orange hair, softly moving in the wind, an echo to his own body blowing away. It had been the strangest sensation, dispersing while still conscious. No, that wasn't quite right. The second strangest. The first he had experienced only moments prior to that, when he had realized that the woman's heart was –

_Regardless._ Ulquiorra shook off that train of thought. How exactly had he ended up with two shinigami in… no, this place did not feel like Las Noches, although the laboratory – as this room seemed to be – and its equipment could easily have been at home in Szayel Aporro's 'palace.' _Soul Society, then?_

"Ooh, a spell of dizziness? Any numbness? How about your breathing? Are you in pain anywhere? What is the last thing you remember?" The questions assaulted him, as the captain abruptly extended his face forward to enter far beyond the boundaries of what Ulquiorra considered his personal space.

"Captain Kurotsuchi," a female voice ventured from behind Ulquiorra, quiet but firm. "Shouldn't he rest a while before attempting to answer your questions? Exhaustion might affect his accuracy."

"I suppose you have a point, Utagawa. Bring him over to hydraulic chair and have him lie down, and then you can go make him some tea and something to eat. I am so considerate that it truly sickens me. Sustenance will increase the speed of your recovery, yes? Do you people eat our food, or would eating other hollow be more effective?" He continued talking over his shoulder as he rushed to the designated chair and flipped on several switches. "I do keep a wide selection in stock for my own purposes."

Ulquiorra felt himself lowered and carefully placed on the contraption. The woman then promptly excused herself, but not before sending a mildly worried glance over in their direction.

"How about this?" the captain said pleasantly, eyes never leaving the tubes he was now fiddling with. "I'm going to hook you up to this machine and take all the necessary readings I need for my research. If you answer my questions, I will bring you up to speed on recent events."

* * *

 

Hoshi had just finished toweling off her hair from a long, relaxing shower.

_Not nearly as long and relaxing as I deserve,_ the voice in her mind sullenly supplied. _And I'm going to have to dress in my spare uniform. Again._ It had been a while since she'd run out of off-duty clothes to wear, and she'd had no time for laundry. Hoshi sulked even more.

She should have known this would happen. She should have _seen_ this coming. This always, _always_ happened with Kurotsuchi and his experiments. Always! He was so enthusiastic when starting new project, almost like a child with a brand new toy; but once he lost interest, said projects were somebody else's problem to finish and clean up. Usually Akon's. Akon, however, was not involved in this particular venture. Hence, the arrancar now living with her. Indefinitely. In her quarters in Seireitei. Illegally.

Kurotsuchi had kept the hollow confined to Lab Nine for the first couple of days, both so he could monitor his return to health closely and his intentions even closer. The former espada seemed to be indifferent towards Soul Society and its residents – when questioned, he merely stated it was simply logic. Aizen had been defeated, and he himself had died. Being brought back into a world he was never meant to inhabit any longer nullified any orders he had received before his death. Going on a rampage and continuing Aizen's battle was completely pointless, in his point of view.

This seemed to be enough for Kurotsuchi to slap some type of shock collar on his neck – just for the added insurance – and to toss him over to Hoshi to take care of, until he was well enough to leave Soul Society. Kurotsuchi wanted to observe how the arrancar would reintegrate himself with the world, but as far as the laboratory was concerned, that part was over. It needed to be returned to working order so it could be utilized for the next shiny thing that caught the captain's eye. Kurotsuchi all but washed his hands of the matter.

Hoshi had reluctantly taken Ulquiorra on – what else was she supposed to do? – but only after wheedling a promise out of Kurotsuchi that he'd help smuggle the arrancar out of Soul Society when he was fully recovered.

She'd had trouble sleeping the first few nights that Ulquiorra spent in her living quarters, but the hollow had been supremely well-behaved. He was quiet, keeping to himself; was a master at concealing his spirit pressure (Hoshi may have been the tiniest bit jealous); and, to top it all, he was excessively clean and tidy in terms of living habits. She grudgingly supposed that, out of all the arrancar she could have been saddled with, it could have been much worse. She had pocketed the control to the collar, though, all the same.

Going out into the main sitting area of her small residence in the Sixth Division barracks, she saw that Ulquiorra was sitting in what was now his usual spot on her couch, reading one of her books and drowning in his newly acquired oversized clothing. She only had two sets of the uniform herself, and thus couldn't spare any for him. And the only other person she could easily nab clothes from without noticing was Renji, who was several heads taller than Ulquiorra. But at least it was whole, clean clothing. It also made the former espada that much less intimidating.

Hoshi walked past him – he was reading the only romance novel in her possession; she had given it to him, after he somewhat reluctantly confessed to her his curiosity on the subject of human emotions; not knowing what to make of this unexpected hobby, she chalked it up to boredom – and made her way to the kitchen. She was about to get started on preparing dinner, when there was a knock on the door.

_Of course._ Of course! _Why the hell not?_

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. It had been a long day at work – Renji and Captain Kuchiki were still at the paperwork and she felt marginally guilty for abandoning them to it, but she had a new obligation to come home to and, honestly, who told them to spend the whole morning sparring in front of an audience? And then she had come back here and had to deal with Ulquiorra and his customary refusal of any form of sustenance. Their now standard argument over the need for food and sleep for healing had commenced ("You are becoming annoying, Shinigami. I have stated multiple times that hollow do not need these things in the same manner your kind does") and continued ("And I've told you, I don't care! I want you healthy and out of here as soon as possible!") until Hoshi had slammed the door to her room and took refuge in the shower.

Another knock. She looked at Ulquiorra.

"You can hardly expect me to answer that," he contributed in his usual monotone.

A quick narrowing of her eyes and a silent promise to get back at him for his deadpan remarks later, and she headed to answer the door.

Several more knocks sounded, each more impatient than the last.

"Coming already," Hoshi grumbled, and flung the door open. She quickly drew it closed most of the way, remembering Ulquiorra was in the room behind her. _Ugh! I keep forgetting myself. One of these days I'll be found out, and then Kurotsuchi is going to have hell to pay._

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

On the other side of the door stood a very makeup-less and irritable Captain of the Twelfth Division.

"Your response time is getting worse by the day," he observed condescendingly.

Hoshi sighed. "What are you doing here, Captain? I thought you already checked in on Ul – on our friend this morning," she quickly corrected herself, with a furtive glance around them. Yes, that had been another thing. Kurotsuchi had considered it well within his rights to break into her quarters and examine the 'subject's' progress whenever he so pleased.

"Naturally," he replied. "I'm not here for our friend, as you call him."

"Then –" Hoshi began, confusion coloring her voice.

"I'm here to take you out to dinner," he stated matter-of-fact.

_Did Rangiku spike the cookies Hinamori brought over today? Or have I simply finally lost it?_

"W-what? Why?" Hoshi managed to sputter out.

Kurotsuchi frowned. "Because it's customary to eat dinner at this time."

Hoshi stared at him.

His golden eyes looked up and to the side, short blue hair swinging dramatically. "Tsk. I thought you might appreciate a free meal at a place other than the barracks' dining hall," he explained in a manner that informed her he was completely frustrated with having to suffer this explanation in the first place. "Think of it as a token of appreciation for the delicious research opportunity you provided me with, as well as your assistance in the matter, which has proved most useful."

"Free food?" Hoshi frowned, arms coming to rest folded across her chest. "I'm not a dog, Captain Kurotsutchi."

"Yes, yes, hurry up, I'm not going to wait for you much longer. Even _my_ near-boundless kindness has its limits," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Utterly defeated, Hoshi looked back over her shoulder at the arrancar, who hadn't stirred from his spot.

Ulquiorra looked up at her and briefly closed his eyes. "I can survive on my own for a few hours longer, Shinigami."

Hoshi sighed. "Fine," she mumbled and grabbed her bag and keys from behind the door. "But eat something!"

* * *

 

"If you think any harder, your head will burst," Mayuri offered, as they walked past the Fourth Division barracks.

"It's that obvious?" the woman at his side asked after a moment, a rueful smile gracing her face.

Mayuri simply gave her one of his 'looks.' Face dead-set, eyes slightly to the side, brows partially raised. It was his well-worn 'Are you serious?' expression, and one that his division knew well. Old squad members remembered it far after they had been reassigned to a different unit, perhaps with an associated parable etched into their bones, and new members quickly learned it as a matter of survival.

Utagawa turned her attention back to the street they were navigating and said nothing. Mayuri likewise decided to keep silent; he was nothing if not patient.

"Captain Kurotsutchi – " she began hesitantly, after a while.

_Ha,_ his inner voice began to gloat, but it was quickly silenced by another, this one pitched higher and far more nasal. _Taken to playing petty mind-games with those inferior to you? Your greatness continues to go uncontested. And you are indulging others, too. My, how the mighty have –_ Mayuri shut it out immediately. An unfortunate 'bug' he seemed to have picked up in Hueco Mundo. Though, it had gotten considerably worse after working on Ulquiorra, he granted. Perhaps it was extended exposure to the arrancar that had triggered it. Yes. He could practically see the pink. With the determination that he really should find an 'antibiotic' of some kind, and that was the absolutely last thought he would waste on the matter, Mayuri swatted the whole embarrassing problem of his inner dialogue away.

"Mayuri," he corrected.

His companion practically tripped at his unexpected interjection. "Eh?"

"I'm not wearing my customary make-up for a reason, Utagawa. When I'm not in uniform, you will address me as Mayuri," he provided by way of explanation.

He could see understanding wash over her, her features relaxing back into her facial structure from where they had been scrunched up tight. She was no doubt coming to realize how, exactly, it was that he always knew so much about everything going on in Soul Society.

Mayuri would wander around Seireitei and Rukongai on occasion _sans_ make-up and in simple clothes – not very often, but enough. He liked to keep a steady eye on the goings-on in Soul Society on a more immediate level than most of his fellow captains. And he still had several good connections in the lower levels of society from his days in the Maggot's Nest and before his internment there, and intended to utilize them to the fullest. He had been due for another incognito excursion, and had decided to bring Utagawa along on a whim. He could pick her brain about what she had observed of Ulquiorra in her off-duty hours and compare that information with his own. At the very least, the clear discomfort she displayed at her latest predicament – dinner – would provide a modicum of entertainment.

"Oh, I interrupted you. You were saying?" he prompted.

"Well… it might be nothing, really," Utagawa said slowly, casting her eyes on the ground. "But before I left work today, I noticed Captain Kuchiki changing his gloves. The one he had been wearing on his right hand had a slash on it."

"And?" Three sentences in, and Mayuri was growing bored with the story already. So what if the over-inflated, insufferable head of the noble Kuchiki house had had his glove ruined? Mayuri was beyond certain that Kuchiki would have it replaced without any effort. He had everything provided for him; unlike some, who actually had to work from nothing and earn their place. But that was what, in Mayuri's most humble opinion, put _him_ far above Kuchiki without any question.

Utagawa had been talking, and Mayuri brought his attention back to her. "– sparring with Renji earlier, but I'm positive that Renji didn't land a single hit on him. And besides, it's not the kind of mark that Zabimaru would leave."

"Your point, Utagawa," Mayuri practically snapped.

The peach-haired female continued, unfazed at his change in attitude. _Hmm, so it is only uncharacteristic behaviors that frazzle her. She's undaunted even by my most caustic tone. She has probably internalized my mannerisms and uses that knowledge to postulate my reactions, thus proceeding with confidence regardless of the situation. Probably does it subconsciously, too. Quite a clever girl. Perhaps I should have kept her in the Twelfth. Oh, well, no use crying over spilled milk. I can still utilize my connection to her and have her do work for me from within her current division, if the need arises. Ooh, yes, that's good, that way I will have essentially another squad at my disposal._

"He had released Senbonzakura during his fight with Renji, so I was thinking – and I know this sounds impossible, especially given that it works as a defensive shield around him –"

"You are saying his zanpakutō cut him on its own, yes?" Mayuri quickly deduced, easily following her thought process.

Utagawa nodded firmly, a few strands of hair coming loose from where they were held in a bun, and flying around her face.

"Interesting," Mayuri mumbled, suddenly deep in thought, one hand rising to his chin as he focused intensely on the pavement in front of him.

"What is it?" his companion trotted to keep up with him, trying to read the inscrutable expression on his tan face.

"Hm?" Mayuri looked to his left and saw Utagawa staring at him, her face level with his own. He had almost forgotten that she was with him. "Oh, merely that Captain Hitsugaya dropped by earlier. He was asking to see any research material we had on zanpakutō; their natures and history of development, in particular. Wouldn't say why."

Utagawa's eyes widened, and mild worry started to stain her voice. "That's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it?"

"We shall see," Mayuri shrugged. There was no use in getting worked up over something so vague. If an incident were to happen, he would deal with it then, the way he always did. With intelligence, poise, and science. Honestly, where would the Gotei be without him? _Do you really want me to answ –_ Another mental swat. Oh, yes, a cure for voices inside one's head would most certainly be his next project when he got back to the lab.

"Perhaps the alarm will sound again," he added, more as a way of distracting himself than anything else.

The woman next to him balked. "… That's not funny in the slightest."

Mayuri allowed himself a wry chuckle. The almost regular ringing of the alarm these days was starting to get just a little bit old, he granted.

* * *

 

Dinner was almost a normal affair.

Almost.

It was awkward, as expected, but Hoshi soon forgot that in favor of the very good, very expensive food.

The first trepidation of the evening came in the form of Ikkaku and Yumichika, bantering with each other while walking by the restaurant, presumably on their way to get drinks. She had resisted the terrible urge to bury her head in her hands; no matter how mortified she was feeling, she would _not_ display it outwardly for others to witness. Knowing Yumichika, especially – that playful light had started dancing in his eyes when he accidentally spotted her, and he had nudged Ikkaku to point her out – she was bound to be interrogated by a slew of people tomorrow. Renji would be at the forefront, of course, demanding to know who she had gone out to dinner with when it was a well-known fact that she didn't go out at all, for anything, other than work. And without consulting him first, too! She could already see the half-joking look of playful hurt on his tattooed face.

There was absolutely no doubt in Hoshi's mind that Kurotsuchi – Mayuri, for the moment, she reminded herself – was well aware of this and was taking great pleasure in her predicament. She had thought that being a seated officer of a different squad would guaranteed that her days as part of his entertainment troupe were over, but she guessed what they said was true: you can never really leave your first division.

They were walking back to her quarters, with Hoshi about to thank him, _again,_ and try to convince him that she was fine to walk back from here alone, when the second strike came.

Two hell butterflies flew up to them.

"An emergency meeting? At this time?" Kurotsuchi frowned.

Hoshi's eyes almost popped out of her head. "Why am _I_ being summoned? You don't think that –"

"Of course not, don't be absurd," Kurotsuchi interrupted.

The confidence with which he spoke assuaged her fears a little, but the knot in her stomach still remained. She _was_ harboring a former espada in her quarters, after all. The apprehension was making her heart race and her palms sweat.

Feeling completely nauseous, Hoshi reluctantly turned and started dragging her feet in the direction of Sōkyoku Hill, the designated meeting place, when she realized that a certain someone was missing from her side.

"Captain?" she asked, accidentally slipping into what was a far more comfortable form of address.

"You go on ahead, Utagawa," he instructed, moving in the opposite direction.

Hoshi stood still, confused. _I'd really rather not go alone to what is otherwise clearly a captains' and lieutenants' meeting._

"I can't very well show up like this, now, can I?!" Kurotsuchi retorted, pointing at his naked face, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hoshi let out a small sigh and shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips despite herself as she continued on her solitary way. Why he insisted on making his own life so complicated, she would never understand.

The first thing she noticed upon arriving at the Hill was that Rukia was there. Hoshi instantly felt more at ease – at least she wasn't the only one out of place. Hopefully that meant that this meeting had nothing to do with Ulquiorra. Answering everyone's questions as to why she was there with a shrug and hands raised in the air, she easily spotted Captain Kuchiki and Renji, his red hair bobbing violently as he waved her over, and went to join them.

Renji told her that he and the captain had been among the first to arrive; according to Ukitake, no one had heard anything about this meeting.

Casting her eyes over the small gathering, Hoshi saw that, indeed, every captain and lieutenant was gathered on the Hill. _Well, almost,_ she corrected herself, as she overheard Yumichika talking to Captain Kyoraku.

"Well, our captain and lieutenant are out," he said as he flipped his hair out of his face in his characteristic manner, "so we're the only ones who can attend the meeting anyway."

"Where'd they go?" Captain Kyoraku asked, scratching his head.

"Dunno," Yumichika replied, slight exasperation in his voice. "They always do this."

"Goodness, and at a time like this!" a very familiar voice piped up.

Looking over to her right, Hoshi realized that Kurotsuchi had arrived there before her; in full make-up and attire, no less. _How is that even physically possible?_ She let herself briefly be distracted from the situation at hand by going over all possible routes and scenarios, taking differences in rank into account, as well as flash-step abilities. Still, her tactically-inclined mind couldn't find a reasonable answer. By all accounts, it didn't make sense.

"Damn this stupid fog!" Renji muttered from somewhere to her left.

He was right – a thick fog had suddenly set in. Hoshi had to strain to make out Rukia, who had left her own captain and third seats to join the Sixth Division officers and wasn't standing that far from her at all.

The sound of footsteps and the bridge creaking under something's weight reached their ears. She could feel everyone automatically tense up.

Lieutenant Sasakibe appeared, the swishing of his _hakama_ sounding horribly loud in the silence.

Kira was the first to react, blond fringe swaying as he stepped forward, but before he could finish asking what was going on, the First Division's lieutenant collapsed at their feet.

Hoshi and Renji both made to move, but they were stopped by a minute gesture from their captain. At the same time, Kira, Hinamori and Shūhei all jumped forward, running to the fallen man's side. Captain Soifon quickly scanned the area around them as her lieutenant, expectedly, gave into panic.

The Fourth Division's captain and lieutenant fell into their line of work.

"He's gone into cardiac arrest. This is bad!" Lieutenant Kotetsu called out.

Captain Unohana spoke firmly, quickly taking control. "Cast a resuscitation spell immediately!"

A ripple of disturbance spread inwards from where Ukitake and Hitsugaya stood, at the outermost fringes of their little circle. The two captains in question had turned to face the part of the Hill that looked towards the Senzaikyū and the main bulk of Seireitei.

A white-clad figure with dark painted eyes appeared out of the mist.

"Your Captain-Commander won't be joining you," he said, almost amusedly.

"Who the hell are you?" Hitsugaya asked.

Hoshi's grip on her zanpakutō tightened, as she and Renji subconsciously moved in front of their captain to guard him. Rangiku and both of Ukitake's third seats did the same with their own captains.

Captain Komamura took the extra step, and placed himself directly in front of the stranger. "You said the Captain-Commander isn't coming, didn't you?" His lieutenant attempted to stop him, but the captain of the Seventh Division paid him no heed. "Scum! What have you done to Genryuusai-dono?!"

The figure remained silent, offering only a slow smile in return.

"No answer?" Captain Komamura pressed. "Then, I'll force you to answer!"

The stranger jumped back and out of the way of the large blade that came swinging down. In almost the same motion, he counter-attacked with a strong blast of wind emitted from his pale palm. Several of the shinigami who were closer to the stranger were blown off their feet. It was all Hoshi could do to remain standing, while Rukia's smaller form toppled into Renji.

With one arm shielding her face, Hoshi registered the sound of the typical banter coming from the Eleventh Division's officers that always prefaced their battles. She tried to shake off her nervousness in the familiarity of it. Almost all captains and lieutenants and several third seats were gathered here. There was absolutely no way one person could pose a problem for them. Yet she still couldn't shake off the sensation of feeling marginally ill.

When the wind died down, she saw that Captain Komamura had lifted himself off the ground and launched straight into _bankai._ With his giant of a materialized zanpakutō behind him as per usual, the large captain started swinging forward.

Ukitake had seen the attack the split second before it happened, but his call of "Look out!" came too late.

Captain Komamura now lay prone on the ground.

"What just happened?!" the white-haired captain of the Tenth Division asked.

Omaeda opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

"The zanpakutō attacked its master?!" Captain Soifon sounded incredulous.

"Impossible," Captain Kyoraku commented.

Hoshi looked at Kurotsuchi. So much for the supposed coincidences. Still. _What the hell is going on?!_

"Now isn't this fascinating?" the painted captain commented, gold-toothed smile breaking his face. Hoshi fought the urge to face-palm. How utterly predictable of him. And just as predictably, no one else seemed to share his sentiment.

In the meantime, Captain Komamura was fighting with what appeared to be the physical manifestation of his zanpakutō. He was downed, for the third time in as many minutes, and this time remained unconscious.

"Captain!" Iba tried to rush to his side, but Yumichika held him back. "Let go, Ayasegawa!"

"Sit upon the frozen heavens, Hyōrinmaru!" Hitsugaya was the next to attack, leaping in the air.

Captain Soifon wasn't far behind. "Sting all enemies to death, Suzumebachi!"

Both weapons glowed, the effect slightly dulled by the fog.

And nothing happened.

With shock written all over their faces, many of the shinigami quickly drew their swords, using their release words to no avail.

"Howl, Zabimaru!"

"Growl, Haineko!"

"Grow, Hōzukimaru!"

Still nothing.

"What's going on?!" Renji shouted, frustration taking over his voice. "I don't feel any _reiatsu_ in my zanpakutō!"

Hoshi had only partially drawn her sword, popping it out of her _saya_ with her thumb, just enough to examine it. Renji was completely right. There was no spiritual pressure from it at all. She looked to her captain.

Captain Kuchiki had not moved, nor had he drawn his sword. His gaze was firmly fixed on the intruder among them.

"Oho, there isn't any _reiatsu_ in it," Kurotsuchi repeated Renji's words almost gleefully. "What's going on?"

Hoshi was tempted to roll her eyes. Of _course_ he would find this fascinating. Herself, she called it a catastrophe at best.

"It's quite simple," the white-clad stranger replied. "Your zanpakutō are no longer with you. I freed them from you shinigami." A few drops of blood streamed from his eyes and with a dramatic thrust of impossibly long finger-nails, several explosions sounded behind him – in the very heart of Seireitei.

Rukia spoke for the first time since arriving. "What the –?!"

"Damn you!" Renji was quick to add. "What did you do?!"

"It wasn't me," the strange figure answered. "Your zanpakutō did it themselves. Behold, the true forms of the zanpakutō you thought you owned!"

As if on cue, several figures appeared in their midst, floating in the air on either side of the man that had assembled them.

Hitsugaya sounded as though he didn't believe his own question. "Is he saying that the zanpakutō have taken physical form?"

Several more figures walked out from behind the group of shinigami, walking past them to join the rest of their brethren. A man in traditional Samurai armor walked past her captain, giving him an inscrutable look from behind his solid mask.

"My, my _,_ " Captain Kyoraku sighed, pulling at the brim of his hat.

Hoshi felt something brush behind her and turned to see that her own zanpakutō had materialized, taking the form of a young man with a long coat and equally long dark-blue hair. He flicked his fringe out of his eyes gracefully with one clawed hand as he walked on by.

"Yo," he greeted with a smirk. "Sorry to ruin your evening, I don't make the rules." He sauntered for a few steps and then lazily spun around, hitting his head with his hand. "Oh, my bad – that would imply you had an evening to ruin. That would certainly be a first, wouldn't it?" he bit out, voice dropping to its lower registers and eyes narrowing. Letting out a laugh, he turned again and easily hopped over to where the rest of the zanpakutō were gathered.

Hoshi was far too stunned to come up with an appropriate response. _Ji – Jishinha? That's my zanpakutō_? _He's always been difficult… and his teasing can be downright cruel at times, but… but that… that really sounded like he hates me._

"Move it!" she heard a voice spit out. Turning to her right, she saw Rangiku being roughly shoved aside by a female with pink fur and cat ears. Haineko, if she guessed correctly. At least she wasn't the only one whose zanpakutō was giving her lip. Rangiku caught Hoshi's eyes as she rubbed her arm where Haineko had hit her, and the two shared sympathetic glance.

"Nii-sama?" Rukia's voice broke through Hoshi's musings.

Captain Kuchiki, who had been standing behind her and Renji all this time, had started walking determinately forward. He stopped when he came level with Ukitake.

"Who on earth are you?" he demanded in his usual, dispassionate voice.

"My name is Muramasa," the intruder replied. "Tonight brings the end of shinigami rule. From now on, the zanpakutō will rule over the shinigami!"

Hoshi couldn't even begin to process the disaster that was upon them. How was this even possible? And the Captain-Commander had been captured? She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Captain Kyoraku apparently echoed her sentiments.

Then Ikkaku, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet all this time, took matters in his own hands and attacked. The rest of the shinigami contingent followed. With one last glance towards Captain Kuchiki, who nodded his approval, Hoshi joined the fray.

All-out attacks were coming from both shinigami and those who claimed to be their zanpakutō. Not only did the zanpakutō turn against their own users, but they indiscriminately attacked any shinigami before them. Most captain-level shinigami had observed, or had at least heard of, everyone's abilities in battle to some extent – that was the only way Hoshi could explain the fact that no one actually died.

As she ducked out of the way of a spear and two _katana_ , Hoshi heard Ukitake suggest that they should fall back. He looked to his long-time friend for confirmation.

Captain Kyoraku voiced his agreement. No sooner had the words left his mouth than Nanao appeared, readjusting the glasses on her face, ready to help organize the retreat.

A small child's voice cried out in the night, terrible and magnified.

Looking up from where she had landed, Hoshi saw a very large Ashisogi Jizō foaming at the mouth with a purple substance. She knew exactly what that was. Her stomach dropped and bile formed in her throat.

"My, my," Kurotsuchi commented, as if without concern. "It's going to vomit poison at us."

"Everyone, run for it!" Captain Kyoraku yelled.

"There is no escape," Muramasa stated, signaling to the rest of the zanpakutō to attack.

And then the whole of Soul Society had erupted into a battlefield before her eyes.

Senbonzakura had already disappeared with Captain Kuchiki in a flurry of cherry blossoms, and neither Hoshi nor Renji could manage to get to where he had last been seen, no matter how they tried to push through. Renji stopped Rukia from any further attempts; the three of them were exposed, sitting ducks on the roof of one of the barracks. Grabbing Rukia's hand, Renji took off down a side street, with Hoshi on his heels.

After that, the fog rose once more to engulf them, and they were running blind.

Soon after, Rukia went missing.

"Damn it! They're destroying everything!" Renji yelled, as yet another building collapsed behind them.

The dust raised from the crumbling structures around them stung her eyes and made her cough. It was getting hard to even breathe.

_This is bad. This is very, very bad. And at a time like this, too, when I have Ulquiorra_ –

Hoshi froze in wide-eyed horror, narrowly missing the scythe that swung by her ear, indicating that Kazeshini had caught up with them. Ulquiorra had his zanpakutō _._ Did arrancar zanpakutō have spirits in them too? She was set upon by panic. The last thing they needed was his materialized hollow powers roaming free.

Seeing that Renji now had back-up in the form of Ikkaku and Yumichika and, thus, was relatively safe, Hoshi took advantage of the low visibility and the confusion to slip away, and she ran like a woman possessed back to her quarters.

* * *

 

With the shinigami gone, Ulquiorra found himself relaxing. It wasn't that he thought she would activate the collar, nor did she nag nearly as much as he gave her grief for. He could understand her position and the intentions behind her words and actions. He was simply a creature not accustomed to co-habitation. The fact that part of her daily routine was to attempt to force food down his throat only added to the overall discomfort of the situation – and the irony of his predicament was not lost upon him in the slightest.

He did want to recover, however, as soon as possible and leave this place. And while he had never witnessed regular food having any sort of restorative effect on arrancar – the basis on which his argument with his reluctant hostess was grounded – he supposed he could humor her for once. After all, the worst it could possibly do was absolutely nothing. The smells from her cooking had been agreeable enough as well, so it couldn't be too horrible of an experience. Ulquiorra had never had a penchant for recreational food in the way some of his fellow arrancar seemed to enjoy it, but at the very least he was capable of discerning what was edible or not.

After a small plate of noodles and vegetables, topped with little orange and white bits that curled in on themselves – some kind of small creatures, Ulquiorra assumed, that he had never seen before – he washed his dishes and settled back on the couch. He gave the book he had been reading an intense stare, as though he could intimidate it into coughing up its secrets. Almost at the end of the story, and he was still as perplexed as ever. He had thought he had finally begun to unravel the mystery of human emotions that last night on the roof of Las Noches, but the small book he currently held was a sore testament to the folly of that notion.

Perhaps it was the written word he was having trouble with. Ulquiorra's thoughts briefly flashed to his former captive and charge, Orihime Inoue, and he had the vague impression that her verbal explanations had done more for his understanding in a shorter amount of time. Perhaps he should go seek her out, once he was recovered.

_No. What utter foolishness,_ he immediately told himself. _Even if I found her, why would she agree to see me? There are no pleasant memories attached to the duration of our association. She believes I am dead, and no doubt takes comfort in that fact._ His firm, inner voice faltered a little at the last bit, his conviction shaken by fleeting memories of the woman's expression as he died, her hand outstretched and reaching for him. Old ways and older beliefs, however, won out in the end. He would let sleeping dogs lie.

With that sorted, Ulquiorra opened the book to resume reading. _Might as well finish it._

The first explosion was a surprise.

Startled by the loud sound in the middle of what had so far been another quiet, unremarkable night, Ulquiorra cautiously made his way to the window by the door. He looked outside, carefully, to establish the cause of the commotion, all the while making sure that no one saw his pale face hovering in the low light of the shinigami's quarters.

Several more explosions sounded, from no one location in particular, and then the sky was lit red with fire. He could hear shouting, voices raised both in command and in panic, and the heavy sound of many feet.

_Are they under attack?_

Ulquiorra withdrew from the window slightly and closed his eyes. He cautiously activated his _pesquisa,_ and quickly determined that the attackers, whoever they were, were not arrancar. Returning his hands to his pockets, the espada calmly went back to sit on the couch and continue his reading. Whatever was happening was not his problem. He would just wait here quietly until the shinigami returned.

It was not long after that she burst through the door, as he had expected.

"Where's your zanpakutō?!" she demanded, forgetting the door open and leaving it swinging wildly in her hurry.

Ulquiorra appraised her appearance. Peach hair hung mostly loose in her eyes and face. She was out of breath, words coming out forced and heavy, and was sporting several bruises and injuries, some of which were bleeding profusely.

"Right here," he answered evenly, picking up the sword that rested by his side to show her.

She moved closer, eyes frantically examining the weapon in question. "Has it materialized?!"

Ulquiorra attempted to show as much puzzlement as he was physically capable of on his face. "What do you mean?"

The shinigami paused for a moment, no doubt taking his unaffected demeanor as a good sign, and using that opportunity to stop her panic and regulate her breathing. "Do … does your zanpakutō have a spirit in it? Like shinigami zanpakutō do?"

"Of course not," Ulquiorra stated, mildly surprised that she was unaware of this fact. _Did the leaders of the shinigami not bother informing their seated officers of the fundamental makeup of arrancar and their powers?_ "Arrancar _zanpakutō_ are merely the manner in which we seal the majority of our hollow powers and our true forms. There is no separate entity associated with them."

"Oh, thank goodness!" the shinigami exclaimed, as she dropped on a chair next to the couch.

Ulquiorra simply continued to look at her.

Yet another explosion, this one followed by screaming and the sound of what could only be buildings collapsing.

"Someone has released our zanpakutō from their sword forms," she said by way of explanation, one hand coming to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but shinigami zanpakutō are inhabited by spirits that are essentially a part of their wielder's soul. These spirits are now rebelling, not bound to us or our physical weapons any longer, and want to take over Soul Society." Slate blue eyes looked almost apologetically at him. "That's what's going on out there."

"So, what you are telling me, Shinigami, is that you are under attack by the manifestation of parts of your own souls, who have now somehow gained independence from you and seek to overthrow you?" Ulquiorra summarized, face characteristically blank. "What is surprising is not that this happened, but that you would instate such an idiotic system to utilize your powers in the first place. I had thought it was only Ichigo Kurosaki that suffered from a severe lack of practicality and foresight, being merely a Shinigami Substitute. That the trait would be shared by shinigami in their own right and on a large scale was a notion I had never considered."

The woman glared at him. "You sure are talkative today," she countered. Clearly, she was not in a mood for semantics. That was fine.

Ulquiorra quietly dropped the subject, and proceeded to figure out with the shinigami how exactly he was to go about remaining hidden when all residents of Seireitei had been ordered to relocate to the Fourth Division barracks until further notice. Soul Society was proving to be a more exciting place than he had imagined.

How troublesome.


	4. Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

What a bloody mess.  _That was the only thought that crossed her mind as she looked around._

_The whole place was in shambles._

_Coated in a thick film of dust and with little pieces of wall stuck in her hair, Hoshi narrowly missed being struck down by rubble as yet another part of the roof caved in, a few feet to her right._

" _Don't let them leave the Sixth Squad barracks!"_

 _She should have known that the compound would not survive from the moment Captain Soifon and her Black Ops had appeared to apprehend the zanpakutō and – to Hoshi's great surprise and horror – Captain Kuchiki as well. Everything from lighting and fire to_ kidō _and knives was being hurled across the night sky. By now, most of the buildings had been torn down to varying degrees, and craters decorated the division's grounds._

_There was the small comfort that Ulquiorra would not be discovered in the crossfire. At least she'd had the foresight to move him back to Research and Development._

_Once Captain Unohana had given the order for all shinigami to temporarily relocate to the Fourth Division barracks and use that as headquarters, Hoshi had rushed the arrancar back to the labs. She had absolutely no doubt that Kurotsuchi would rather die first than abandon his precious territory for another division and would never let anyone invade it while he still drew breath; right now, that was the safest place for their little highly illegal experiment._

_The hollow had expressed absolutely no interest in the current events that had Soul Society falling apart at the seams, and, in fact, had stated he'd rather not be asked for his assistance in the matter. Hoshi had been relieved – there was absolutely no way she could have handled an argumentative and eager-to-fight arrancar on top of the droves of rampant zanpakutō. As such, Ulquiorra was currently sitting quietly in the main control room of the Research and Development Institute, drinking tea. Kurotsuchi and Nemu often kept him company there, since that particular room served as the command center for the Twelfth Division. Nemu, out of necessity, had been briefly appraised of the situation; she had accepted it without question and had offered no opinion on the former espada, other than her usual 'Yes, Mayuri-sama.' Hoshi found herself wishing sometimes that her own lieutenant was as accepting and agreeable._

_The last standing wall of what, until recently, had been her own office crashed down near her, as the beams supporting it were blasted to bits._

_Hoshi coughed violently and waved the dust from her eyes with her free hand; the other was clutching her sword, shaking from its unnatural weight._

Damn it, Wabisuke.

 _Kira had been busy with Kazeshini, so he never noticed his own zanpakutō edging in on him. The first blow had brought the blond lieutenant to his knees, and the second would have finished him had Hoshi not flash-stepped in to block it. The roof tiles had given way under the new weight of her sword, and Hoshi had landed here, where she was currently standing. She had sacrificed the integrity and usefulness of her_ katana, _but at least Kira was still breathing._

_Briefly taking her eyes off of the dueling pair in the middle of the Sixth Division's grounds that had her staring fixated, she knelt down and brushed asymmetrical hair aside to re-check the pulse of the Third Division's lieutenant._

" _Hoshi, dear, we need to go."_

_Hoshi turned her head to spare a quick glance at the owner of the large clawed hand that was on her shoulder._

_Jishinha._

_She had finally brought him back to his senses._

_He had appeared before her as she had been running, frantically, from the Fourth Division's infirmary towards her own squad's barracks, from where she could feel both Renji's and Captain Kuchiki's_ reiatsu _flaring._

_The battle that had followed had been among the worst Hoshi had ever experienced. The outer wall of the Sixth Division's compound and the adjoining streets were a ready witness to that: both shinigami and zanpakutō had used their powers to the fullest, tearing whatever material they could find to throw at the other, debris swirling around the pair in a whirlwind of vibration control and particle manipulation._

_Hoshi had managed to defeat her blue-haired counterpart, somewhere between regaining her_ shikai _and letting him run his mouth, but only just. She never thought there would come a day when she'd be grateful for not having achieved_ bankai _– if she had had_ bankai _, winning would have been impossible. Jishinha had just started taunting her about how much better he was with their particular skill set than she, showing off by honing in on the vibrations of her body and using his telekinesis on the shinigami herself, sending her spinning through the air. Hoshi had never attempted the telekinesis on another person, had never worked up the nerve to manipulate another being's body particles in such an intimate fashion, so the attack had caught her by surprise. Landing face-first on some rubble, she had been on the verge of giving up when she had felt Renji's_ reiatsu _disappear. Captain Kuchiki's was intact, but growing distant._

_Panic had turned into anger, and her next attack – a thrust of her sword while she was still lying belly-down on the ground – brought Jishinha to his knees, screaming in pain. Without the luxury of time to process what, exactly, had happened, Hoshi could only infer instinctively that the vibration manipulation in that last attack had been different, somehow. It had felt, almost tasted, different; like it had changed colors from her previous ones. She had meant to try her hand at what Jishinha had done to her. But instead of his body's vibrations resonating with her at the frequency necessary to fling him aside, they had responded at a much different frequency. It had almost felt… explosive. Like each particle was a little bomb, waiting to be set off individually._

_Freed from Muramasa's brainwashing and waving off Hoshi's concerns about his well-being, Jishinha had accompanied her into the main building and had assisted her in fending off the other zanpakutō. She had not gotten the chance to speak to Captain Kuchiki. It looked like Renji had, though, and the result was far from encouraging._

_Looking at Jishinha now, Hoshi could see concern filling his dark blue eyes, whereas before they had held nothing but contempt. One more thing to be thankful for._

_Turning back towards the main spectacle, she silently agreed with Jishinha. They really should get out while they still could. The waves of cherry blossom-blades and scalding yellow_ reiatsu _were becoming wilder by the moment, flying out in larger circles with each strike. But Hoshi was frozen in place, watching her captain fight one on one with Zaraki, while Senbonzakura battled Ichigo somewhere in the clouded sky above them._

" _No," she said stubbornly. "This is my division. No one is going to run me out of here." Weak words, she knew, especially for someone whose powers were mostly handicapped. "We might not be able to fight the captain-class zanpakutō, but we can at least do something about all this debris flying around. Use your powers to prevent it from falling on anyone."_

_Jishinha sighed. There really was no swaying her once she had her mind set on something. "And what about you?" he asked, pointing to her weighted sword with a graceful flick of his hand._

" _I can still use it, just… with some difficulty. I'll back you up."_

_With a small shake of his head and an affectionate smile, Jishinha set to work next to his wielder._

_The battles raged on a few tense-filled moments longer, until Ashisogi Jizō crashed into the space between Zaraki and Captain Kuchiki, and drowned the entire area with his purple poison._

_Vision blurring and fingers slowly unwrapping from her sword's hilt, Hoshi felt herself fading and slumped against a strong chest behind her._

_The next thing she knew was that it was sunrise – she could feel the pale first rays of light graze over her skin. Hoshi opened her eyes to find herself propped up by Jishinha, who was absent-mindedly stroking her hair. They were sitting in the middle of the Sixth Division's now unrecognizable courtyard._

" _Oh, you're awake! Thank goodness!" Jishinha let out a sigh of relief. "I didn't think he'd harm you with his 'antidote,' but I just can't bring myself to fully trust that man."_

_Jishinha had, apparently, pushed away what poison he could with his powers and so he had been unaffected, but she had breathed in enough to pass out. Kurotsuchi had shown up only a few minutes ago, and had begun distributing the antidote to all who had been poisoned. According to Jishinha, Kurotsuchi had already blown up his own zanpakutō, rubbed Zaraki the wrong way, and had all but taken charge of the situation._

_Hoshi turned to look to where the captain in question was now. He currently had Ichigo pinned down: the boy was struggling to get away from Nemu, who was suffocating him with her chest, and the Shinigami Substitute was turning a bright shade of red. Kurotsuchi, in the meantime, was waving about a syringe threateningly, the fizzling green liquid eating away any surface it dripped on._

Is that what he injected me with?!

_Ichigo was still yelling and scrambling, calling to Zaraki for help._

" _Why should I?" Zaraki said disinterestedly, from where he sat a little ways away. "I don't care if he turns you into a machine or a monster, as long as we can still fight when he's done."_

" _Good luck, Icchi!" Yachiru cheered from his shoulder._

_Ichigo continued flailing and kicking. "How come the poison didn't affect either of you?" he asked, clearly stalling for time._

" _Well, I held my breath so I wouldn't breathe any in," the little pink-haired girl explained. 'Demon incarnate,' Captain Kuchiki called her._

" _That's strange," Kurotsuchi murmured. "The poison should still have seeped in transdermally, even if you didn't inhale it. Perhaps it doesn't affect vacuous imbeciles?"_

_Hoshi stared, incredulous. Was he seriously going to bait Zaraki at a time like this? The feeling of Jishinha's sharp chin softly brushing the top of her head, indicating that he was shaking his own, told her that her zanpakutō shared her opinion._

" _I think I know what it was," a deep, cheerful voice called out. "Captain Zaraki's_ reiatsu _probably blew away the poison."_

" _Kyoraku-san! Ukitake-san!" Ichigo exclaimed. From the tone of his voice, the pair of captains had now been elevated to knights in shining armor. Hoshi had wondered where they had been all this time._

" _Sorry we're so late," Captain Kyoraku said, embarrassed, but offering no explanation._

" _Is everyone okay?" Ukitake asked._

_Captain Unohana appeared behind them, heading a whole army of Fourth Division shinigami. "Captain Kurotsuchi, thank you for tending to everyone. The Fourth Squad will take over from here."_

_Kurotsuchi looked put out. "Coming up with an antidote to my poison is no easy matter."_

" _That is no problem," Captain Unohana replied, a sweet smile on her face. "We just finished healing Isane and several others who were poisoned by Ashisogi Jizō. So, we've already completed making an antidote."_

" _Tsk. You shouldn't have," Kurotsuchi said sullenly, as he turned to fully face her. "I'll be sure to make a poison that even you can't figure out how to cure next time."_

_Captain Unohana kept smiling. "I look forward to it."_

_The air suddenly came alive with electricity as the captains of the Fourth and Twelfth divisions continued to eye each other, making everyone else present squirm uncomfortably. Jishinha looked amused, though his self-preservation instincts were far too keen for him to make any sort of inappropriate comment regarding the two._

_Hoshi let out a weary sigh at the spectacle, disentangled herself from her zanpakutō (who relinquished his hold of her, albeit somewhat reluctantly) and proceeded to pick her way through the rubble to what was once her squad's main office. She started sorting through the debris, picking up papers here and there._

" _What are you doing, my dear?" the calm, yet exasperated voice of her zanpakutō asked._

" _Recovering what I can," she replied quietly. "There's not much I can do besides this."_

_Light blue talons gestured dramatically in the early light. "What is happening with Byakuya is not in any way your responsibility. I have no idea what his play is, as I don't remember anything from when I was under Muramasa's control, but it would be best for you to accept his status as traitor to Soul Society and give up on chasing him. That goes for Renji as well," Jishinha added as an afterthought, turning to scan the area with his eyes for his favorite pineapple-head._

" _There is absolutely no way that Captain Kuchiki is a traitor," Hoshi said, shaking her head vehemently to emphasize her point, but never leaving off her current task. "He'd give his life for Soul Society. He was willing to sacrifice his own sister for Soul Society! No, there is a reason why he's doing this and keeping us in the dark, and I bet it's a damn good one at tha – Ouch!" She quickly withdrew her hand from where she had been searching, sudden and unexpected pain coming from her finger. Close inspection of the bleeding digit informed her she had cut it on a piece of glass._

" _You really are hopeless," Jishinha said with a soft laugh, swishing his long blue hair out of the way as he knelt down to help her in her futile salvaging quest._

" _Paperwork is important!" Hoshi said indignantly over her shoulder, going back to her rummaging._

_Jishinha let a small smile grace his lips. "That's not what I was talking about."_

_Jishinha's voice grew fainter until she couldn't hear him at all, and the glowing orange sunlight bathing everything around them started swaying, slowly turning to liquid._

_Hoshi was drowning, struggling to get out of the lake where the force of the explosion had sent her flying. She was covered in blood that wouldn't wash off, no matter how hard she tore at her skin. Rocks were falling on her, and the hollow that Muramasa had released in his despair were closing in on her. She thrashed about, looking for Renji and the others and – Oh. That's right. They were all dead, it was their blood she was drenched in. It was only right that she'd be buried by her own attack. Just remembering the sickening feel of those explosive vibrations in their bodies stilled her movements, and she stopped resisting her deserved fate. The rocks started hitting her head._

...

"Helloooooo? Is anyone in there?"

Hoshi was jolted awake by a smooth sing-song voice and several hard knocks against her head, as a clawed arm wrapped its way around her neck.

"Gah!" she gasped, struggling for breath and still reeling from her nightmare. "Get off of me, you idiot! What did I say about personal space?!" She managed to pry him off, swatting him away with her hands while barely keeping her chair from toppling over backwards.

Jishinha laughed and swung himself back on her desk, daintily perched, with one knee brought up to rest his chin on and the other leg swinging lazily back and forth. He regarded her with mirth in his dark eyes.

They were in the newly rebuilt Sixth Division main office – she was working, and he was being an utter hindrance to said work.

"You were spacing out, Hoshi, dear. You probably didn't hear a single word I said. So," he concluded, bringing one talon-ended hand to grasp the top of her head, "unless you were daydreaming about that captain of yours, I really do insist you go and get some rest. You've got dark circles under your pretty eyes."

"I don't need any rest, I'm fine," Hoshi replied, swatting his hand away. Again.

Were other zanpakutō this clingy? Kira would probably pin it on her. She could just hear him. 'You have an aversion to physical proximity. It follows that your zanpakutō is the manifestation of all of your suppressed needs that have no other outlet.' He really did miss his calling as the Gotei's therapist.

"Muramasa left us a hell of a mess to clean up," Hoshi continued. "And Renji is in no shape to work." She chuckled, thinking of the second degree burns Renji had received from the bathhouse a few days ago. Most of the raw flesh had healed over, but he was still extremely sore and wrapped up like a mummy. He couldn't even verbalize his frustration, as the main party responsible had been Senbonzakura yet his own zanpakutō got saddled with the blame. Hoshi half-expected the red-head to spontaneously combust at any time now.

Jishinha just kept looking at her pointedly, a small smirk gracing his face.

"And no, that wasn't an admission through omission," Hoshi added quickly. "I honestly don't know where you got this stupid idea from."

"Perhaps from the fact that you very obviously have a crush on him."

"I do not! I simply look up to him. His qualities as a captain and his skills on the battlefield, with both sword and  _kidō,_  are more than worthy of admiration," Hoshi said defensively, crossing her arms across her chest.

"So, it's hero worship. Same thing." Jishinha shrugged his delicate shoulders.

"It's not hero worship either!" Hoshi huffed, slamming a hand on the desk. "It's just – Argh! Why am I even having this conversation with you?!"

"Because you are trying to convince yourself that you don't have a hero-crush on Byakuya. A futile endeavor, really," her zanpakutō said merrily, the smirk never leaving his face.

"Listen here, you stupid feather-pouch, I don't care what you do with the others, but you  _will_  use honorifics when you speak of Captain Kuchiki!" she stated, jabbing a finger into his chest. "And besides, 'hero-crush?' That's not even a real term!"

"It is now," Jishinha said smugly. "I should tell you though, he's not your type."

Hoshi raised her eyebrows and looked at him blankly.

"Well, he's not  _my_  type," Jishinha corrected, "and therefore he's out. His attitude, while admittedly amusing at first, quickly becomes irritating. He needs to lose the pride; and that unfashionable scarf as well. And his appalling sense of art? Ugh." He shuddered at the thought of those Admiral Seaweed cookies the division had been attempting to sell as a fundraiser. "That's it – you need to find someone else to look up to and hero-crush on from afar. I will help you look."

Hoshi face-palmed. "Why are you even outside your sword?"

Jishinha stretched languidly, arms above his head. "Oh, well, it can get so cramped in there; and the never-changing desert scenery does lose its charm after a while. And in any case," he leaned forward, bringing his face close to Hoshi's and pinching her cheek, "it's so much more fun teasing you face to face."

With that he promptly jumped off her desk, straightened his clothes, and made to leave.

"Wait, where are you going now?" Hoshi asked warily, briefly looking up from her papers.

"Mmm? Oh, Senbonzakura and I are going out for drinks."

Hoshi paused in her writing. "… Why?"

"Well, everyone else already had plans," Jishinha considered, tapping his chin with one clawed finger. "I wanted to spar a little with Kazeshini, work on fine-tuning my  _bank_  – uh, my skills – but he mumbled something about baby food and ran off with Shūhei. He's been acting very strange lately, come to think of it."

 _Phew, that was close,_ Jishinha thought as he studied his shinigami behind artfully guarded eyes.

Ever since 'the-incident-that-never-happened' during the battle with Muramasa, he had tread very carefully around the topic of Hoshi's brand new  _bankai._  That is to say, he didn't mention it at all. It seemed to be an unspoken fact that Hoshi would prefer to forget she had attained a  _bankai_  the day before their final battle with Muramasa. She had kept it a secret from everyone around her, and Jishinha was all for keeping the peace. At least for now.

He seemed to have distracted Hoshi from his slip-up with Kazeshini's latest antics. Now, for a bit more. A glint came into his eyes. "Don't worry, Senbonzakura and I are just going to hang out and chat about things. He's so easy to mess with, unlike Byakuya. It promises to be a lovely evening."

"What  _things_?" Hoshi insisted.

"Oh, you know, sword things. Nothing that concerns you," Jishinha replied unconvincingly, not even trying to hide his smile.

Sticking his tongue out at her, he ran out of the room cackling.

Hoshi was on his heels in a flash.

"Jishinha!"

* * *

 

"This is ridiculous."

"Hush."

"You told me all the gates to the world of the living are monitored and guarded," the first voice pressed on, undeterred.

"Be quiet," the second voice whispered more insistently, causing several leaves to rustle.

"Surely even you must be able to understand that we will be noticed," Ulquiorra stated in that infuriating matter-of-fact tone of his, trying, from his point of view, to make her see reason.

"Would you shut up already?!" Hoshi hissed at her partner in crime, glancing furtively through the leaves of the bush they were currently hiding behind.

After ensuring the arrancar's grudging silence with a hard glare, she resumed her activity of watching the previously agreed upon area where Kurotsuchi said he'd open a  _senkaimon_.

"I already told you, Captain Kurotsuchi will activate Urahara's gate from the other side. It's not monitored by Soul Society," Hoshi repeated for what must have been the thousandth time.  _Why is he being so difficult about this? Does he want to stay here forever?_

"And even if it was," she continued, "he's the one who monitors the gates – the cameras, usage logs, and Precipice World records are all in the hands of the Twelfth Division."

 _Wait._ Hoshi screeched to a halt in her thoughts. Wouldn't it have been simpler for them to use one of the established  _senkaimon_  and for Kurotsuchi to just doctor the records? No one would ever know. Why was he going to the trouble of breaking in and entering Urahara's basement to use his equipment?

Hoshi sighed. Pointless to ask, really. She knew why.

Kisuke Urahara.

 _They really,_ really _, need to get over their stupid ego pissing fest at some point_.

Before she could speculate on the matter further, the gate opened up several feet in front of them and slightly off the ground.

Hoshi tapped Ulquiorra on the shoulder, checked the area around them once more, and sprinted through.

Ulquiorra sighed, briefly closing his eyes.

This was absurd. He really did not see the point of being forced to go to the living world, when in only a few weeks he would have enough of his strength back to be able to open a  _garganta_  straight from Soul Society to Hueco Mundo without anyone detecting it. At the moment, he could open one but not conceal it, so it was out of the question. But they had let him recuperate here this long. What was a few more weeks?

The Cuatra Espada was indebted to this shinigami, however. She, and the no doubt certifiably insane captain of the Twelfth Division – who truly reminded him of a former pink-haired comrade of his at times – had brought him back from nothing.

Resigned to his fate, Ulquiorra walked through the gate.

And just when things had finally quieted down in Soul Society, too.

He had kept a low profile during the whole mess that the shinigami had gotten in with their zanpakutō. He had half-expected the two shinigami to ask him for help, given how much trouble they were having and the fact that his powers had remained unaffected, but neither had wanted him involved at all. He had to admit he had felt mildly relieved. Ulquiorra had absolutely no inclination to get involved in shinigami affairs.

The espada had resided in the Research and Development building until that had been blown up as well. Everyone had been too busy berating the zanpakutō responsible for reducing the facility to a large crater to notice a hollow adept at  _sonído_  flying to the newly constructed Sixth Division barracks.

Despite his former intentions, Ulquiorra had found himself slowly becoming restless. He was unaccustomed to not working or performing tasks of some sort; he had rarely taken time to rest while in Aizen's service, always finding something to do even if nothing had been required of him. In the highly charged atmosphere of the Zanpakutō Rebellion, where all of Seireitei was a flurry of activity, his own inactivity had finally gotten the best of him.

He would never admit it, of course, to the shinigami, but he increasingly engaged himself in activities around her residence. Particularly in the kitchen, though why he settled on cooking of all things he could not fathom. It was during one such instance – he had been perusing a cookbook he had discovered on her shelves, trying to find a recipe more challenging than the last – that Ulquiorra had heard raised voices drifting in from outside.

Returning the cookbook to where he found it, after marking the page he was on, the hollow had made his way to the front door. The peach-haired female stood in the doorway, in heated conversation with Ichigo Kurosaki and two of his friends. It appeared that the Shinigami Substitute had been racing through Seireitei when he had been held up by the red-haired man and the short, dark-haired woman.

"Ichigo!" the small shinigami berated.

"Just wait for the rest of us, damn it!" the red-haired one shouted, as he grabbed Kurosaki by the front of his  _gi_.

"There's no time!" Kurosaki yelled. "Yoruichi-san just came from Karakura, and said Urahara had Inoue and the others intercept Muramasa!" Shoving Renji off, he had started running down the street. "I'm going on ahead, I'll hold him off – you gather the others and catch up!"

The dark-haired woman had taken off as well. "I'm going with him!" she called over her shoulder, as she disappeared around the corner chasing the orange blur.

"Hoshi, I'm going to go round everyone up! I'll meet you at the gate!" the male shinigami announced, as he started speeding towards the area that Ulquiorra now knew housed the First Division barracks.

Hoshi had felt the espada's intention before he articulated it.

"I will come with you." It was not a suggestion.

She turned, closing the door behind her and giving him a stern look. "Ulquiorra –"

"I will come with you," he said a little more firmly.

Hoshi brought up a hand to her head. "If this is about Inoue, I can assure you –"

"It is not. You have had trouble dealing with this Muramasa. It has gone on long enough. The longer it takes, the more it endangers my own situation. I shall assist you in eradicating him." His tone brooked no argument.

Hoshi raised her eyebrows. "This situation has been a danger to you from the beginning. You didn't seem to mind before."

Ulquiorra's already unsettling gaze grew in intensity. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"Fine!" Hoshi growled out, throwing her hands up in the air. His unflappable nature was absolutely maddening. "I'm not going to get anywhere with you, am I? You really are impossible. Just… just don't be seen!"

The espada retracted his previous forcefulness. "Who do you think I am, Shinigami?" he sighed.

They had sped to the real world after that, using the  _senkaimon_  located in the Kasumiōji manor, which was frequently unmanned; with the destruction of the Research and Development building, the chances of anyone keeping travel records were slim to none. Ulquiorra grabbed Hoshi by the wrist and used  _sonído_  – her  _shunpo_  was too slow, he argued – and they arrived in the middle of a forest clearing near Karakura, just in time to see the orange-haired human girl kneeling over Muramasa.

Her unmistakable shield was covering him, the yellow light bathing him and healing his injuries.

Ulquiorra went still, sharp green eyes widening more than Hoshi had ever seen before.

When he finally spoke, it came out as a whisper. "What is she doing?"

Hoshi opened her mouth to answer ('You know how she is, she'll heal even her enemies,' 'It's not the first time she's done this, I'm sure she's fine'), when Ulquiorra abruptly took off at high-speed towards the pair by the lake shore.

Foreign instincts had flared and set him into motion, his tunnel-vision barely registering the female shinigami charging him and slamming both of them into a tree.

"Are you crazy?!" Hoshi raised her voice as loud as she dared. "You can't be seen!"

"There is something wrong with him. He is bleeding out hollow  _reiatsu._  Can she not feel it?" Ulquiorra didn't even acknowledge her, body rigid and still transfixed by the figures on the water's edge.

"I'll go to her, you stay put!" Hoshi was half-shocked that she still had use of all her limbs. She was certain that had she placed her hands on Ulquiorra at any other time – as an absentminded gesture, let alone the aggressive handling she had just subjected him to – he would have ripped them off.

They snapped to attention when Muramasa suddenly broke the shield, causing Inoue to flinch violently out of surprise. Ulquiorra propelled himself forward, pushing against the shinigami so violently that her feet dug long furrows into the damp ground.

Hoshi truly thought she was going to lose her hold on him. His frame might have been lithe, but it was far, far stronger than she had ever imagined it to be in his sealed form. Just as her hands were slipping, the quincy boy and the other human that often accompanied that group appeared, temporarily diffusing the situation. Hoshi was able to push Ulquiorra back into the trees using, what she had felt, was the peak of her persuasive abilities.

After finally reaching a compromise (the espada could participate, but only if he remained out of sight and didn't use anything that screamed 'I am a hollow'), Hoshi had run off towards the direction from where she had felt the shinigami cavalry finally arriving.

Left to himself, Ulquiorra observed the battlefield.

Muramasa had completely lost control of himself by this point. The absurdly large number of menos grande that had come tumbling out of the rogue zanpakutō had sparked a memory in the arrancar's mind – an emergency meeting of the espada, called by Tousen who, visibly upset, insisted something was preying on the gillian. One snarky and predictable comment from Grimmjow later, regarding the shinigami and his 'pets,' and the meeting had degenerated into shouting and drawn swords. Szayel Aporro had attempted to calm everyone, hands raised and patting the air in front of him, and offered to go to the observation outpost to see what he could find, but Aizen-sama had ended the meeting. With the invasion of Hueco Mundo by the shinigami shortly thereafter, the matter had been left unresolved.

_So, this is what became of them._

Ulquiorra kept his promise to the female shinigami – not at all because the orange-haired woman had removed herself from the fray – and only lent his assistance at the very last.

A large  _garganta_  had been torn between the worlds, with a vast number of hollow climbing through. Ulquiorra briefly wondered where Harribel was – if the outpouring of hollow was not stopped soon, Hueco Mundo would suffer spiritual imbalance; that the human town would be completely destroyed was so obvious a fact, it was not even worth mentioning.

The shinigami and their zanpakutō were attempting to force the  _garganta_  shut using all their  _reiatsu._

 _Foolish._  He lifted one black-nailed finger and pointed it in their direction, giving the  _garganta_  the push it needed to close. Let them think that they had succeeded in closing it themselves. It was a small matter.

Soon after, the female shinigami had run back to him, thanking him with a knowing smile, to whisk him back to Soul Society before anyone else returned there.

It had been… interesting, to see the woman again. Ulquiorra had remained in the shadow of the trees, but she had kept throwing looks over her shoulder in his general direction. She hadn't seen him, of course – he was no amateur at this kind of child's play – but he had wondered whether she perhaps could sense something. It couldn't have been his spiritual pressure, however; he had that firmly suppressed. None of the shinigami had taken notice of anything amiss. Was it something else, then?

She seemed well. Ulquiorra had felt some kind of strange warmth spreading in his veins at that observation, and had wondered at it. He hadn't been given much opportunity to process it at the time, so he now found his thoughts turning to it, again, as his feet travelled through the Precipice World of their own accord, following his guide. It was not merely a matter of placing a name on what he had felt, but more so coming to terms with the undeniable fact that he had  _felt._

Had the shinigami captain done something to him? Had he brought him back slightly different, modified perhaps? When he had asked the captain these questions, during the first few days of their acquaintanceship, the painted face had looked aghast – he had vehemently denied anything of the sort. 'What a horrible waste of perfectly good starting material and an idiotic usage of scientific practices! To modify a test subject before I have determined their original nature? I would have no reference point! What purpose would that serve?'

Still, the espada considered it as a possibility. In any case, it was far more likely, in his mind, than the alternative – that his final battle with Ichigo Kurosaki and his association with the woman had altered him in some fundamental way.

_Impossible._

Ulquiorra was so lost in thought, that he missed the bright white light that signaled the end of the passageway. He was already half-way to the dusty ground when he registered that he was falling.

The exit, apparently, had been placed in mid-air. What kind of flawed design in the shinigami mode of transportation would result in such a ridiculous placement, the espada could only imagine. The same could be said about that infernal contraption that would chase them on occasion. And the shinigami had the gall to criticize their  _garganta_? These passageways were positively barbaric.

Ulquiorra stood up and dusted himself off, frowning at his dirtied uniform to hide the fact that he was more than slightly alarmed at his lapse in concentration and the utter negligence of his surroundings. That was not normal.  _Perhaps,_ he rationalized to himself,  _I am not as recovered as I thought._

"Idiot!" The arrancar heard a high-pitched male voice exclaim. Looking disinterestedly over his shoulder, he was greeted by the sight of a black-and-white patterned face he had, unfortunately, come to know very well. "Conceal your spiritual pressure!"

They quietly climbed the long ladder out of the basement – a silent Ulquiorra, an irritated Kurotsuchi, and Hoshi – and carefully moved down one of the wood-paneled hallways.

Coming to a fork, they parted ways; Kurotsuchi disappeared down the left passage, while Hoshi and her unwilling hollow companion took the right to reach the back door of Urahara's shop.

As Hoshi turned the knob, she heard the telltale sounds of Kurotsuchi being discovered by Tessai-san and being questioned as to why he was snooping around. Kurotsuchi immediately let out a sneering stream of words, amounting to the fact that he had wanted to see what all the fuss with this 'shop' was about, and to be perfectly honest, the self-guided tour had left him most unimpressed.

Hoshi shook her head, silently thanking the heavens for Kurotsuchi's well-known eccentric nature and dramatic tendencies – it was so completely in character, that she was certain neither Tessai-san nor Urahara would suspect a thing.

Ulquiorra obligingly followed his shinigami guide as she purposefully strode down the dirt road next to the shop.

His steps slowed considerably once he realized that they were simply taking the route to the front door.

Hoshi heard him stop.

"What is it now?" she queried in a tired voice over her shoulder.

"Why are we going back in through the front?" Ulquiorra asked.

A loud sigh was the only answer he received, before the shinigami had the gall to grab him by the wrist and firmly pull him forward. She had manhandled him during the battle with Muramasa, as well, though he had not said anything at the time. Perhaps that had been a mistake. It appeared to be becoming a habit of hers.

As Ulquiorra opened his mouth to say as much, Hoshi firmly shoved him into the shadows next to the door frame, signaled for him to keep quiet, and rapped on the door.

She was promptly greeted by a large striped hat, a fan waving in her face, and very loud music.

"Oh, Utagawa-san! Freeloader-san was just wondering about you, how lovely you could join us. Come in, come in!" Urahara welcomed her in his customary, too-cheerful voice.

Hoshi held on to the wood paneling with her fingers as subtly as she could.

"Actually, Urahara-san, I was wondering – is Inoue here?" she pitched her voice a little louder, to be heard above all the talking and festivities of his little party.

She felt Ulquiorra go stiff beside her.

"She certainly is! Inoue-saaaaan!" he called merrily into the room behind him.

Hoshi saw an orange head appear out of the crowd from behind Captain Komamura, looking slightly confused but happy. Urahara signaled the girl over furiously with his hand, and she started making her way over to the door.

"I'm leaving," a low voice stated near her ear.

Hoshi twisted around and grabbed a fistful of clothing.

"What?!" she exclaimed disbelieving. "Absolutely not!"

The hollow gripped the offending hand and started applying pressure. "Unhand me," he said quietly, the threat evident in his voice.

"Like hell!" Hoshi bit back. "I can't believe you're getting cold feet!"

"My feet are not cold, Shinigami," Ulquiorra deadpanned, trying to disentangle himself from her tight grasp without breaking her bones. Yet.

All the while, a pair of extremely amused eyes took in the scene from under the dark brim of a hat, completely forgotten by shinigami and hollow alike.

* * *

 

Finally rid of that  _kidō_ -wielding pest, Mayuri Kurotsutchi settled into a corner of the room, nibbling on some sweets.

Displeasure was etched on every single one of his features. He did not want to be here. Golden eyes flitted to the tall clock that stood near the food-table. Only five minutes had passed. He supposed he could stay a few more. That should get the Head Captain off of his back.

That infuriating man – Urahara – had thrown this ridiculous party at his shop, with the half-baked excuse that, in all the aftermath of the Winter War and the Zanpakutō Rebellion, no one had celebrated the New Year properly. He had offered up his place as a venue for the belated festivities.

Mayuri had absolutely no doubt as to his intentions. With several of the visored being reinstated in their former positions, Urahara meant for this to be an ice-breaker between them and Soul Society. The fact that most everyone was wearing a  _gigai_  made it quite plain to the Twelfth Division's captain that this was also an attempt to get Ichigo Kurosaki to cheer up – the boy had been in quite the depressive episode, it seemed, after finally losing his powers in the wake of Muramasa's defeat. There was no sign of him tonight, however, and according to his human friends he had given no indication that he would be coming. Well. So much for that.

In the corner across from Mayuri were Urahara and a man he remembered as the Tenth Division's captain before Hitsugaya – Kurosaki's father, apparently, and just as much of an idiot as the 'candy-store' owner. They were laughing and yelling about something while posing with their arms splayed in the air, like complete morons, trying to get a reaction out of a white-haired man he did not recognize. From his clothes, he appeared to be a quincy.

_Oho. Another one, is it? Perhaps I should approach the Captain-Commander again on the matter. The last thing I need is an infestation of those pesky creatures._

Continuing to look around him, he noticed Komamura chatting with the human girl, Inoue, who was showing some brushes to him. They were oddly shaped, and his curiosity was briefly piqued, but he was soon distracted by the sound of nearby arguing.

"Are you saying," a cold voice carried over, "that after everything, you still think you can fight on my level?"

"You're talking," another voice grated out, "but all I'm hearing is you're too chicken to take me on one on one without any chances of anyone interfering and giving you a way out."

Mayuri looked over to his left. Tsk, how tedious. Those two again. And to think, he had almost left them behind in Hueco Mundo.

"Perhaps my ears are being affected by the loud music. For a moment I thought you were implying I am afraid," Kuchiki continued.

"Are you saying you aren't?" Zaraki replied.

"Naturally, I am not. But I have no reason to fight you, and will not waste my time on such a pointless endeavor." Kuchiki turned back to his activity of impassively gazing over the gathering.

"Want me to give you a reason? I'll lop your head off," Zaraki offered.

Kuchiki scoffed. "Your skills are still in their infancy; you could not hope to land a scratch, let alone achieve as lofty a goal as taking my head off."

"Want me to try it?" Zaraki's eyes narrowed, reaching for his zanpakutō.

"Do you want me to  _let_  you try it?" Kuchiki countered, mirroring his motion.

A blur of white and blue flew by Kurotsuchi.

The quincy boy. He had apparently taken it upon himself to diffuse the situation. He attempted to explain to the two fools the trouble they'd have to go to repay Urahara for any damage caused to his property. This seemed to get them to withdraw their hands from their swords. Unfortunately, a battle-ready third seat of the Eleventh Division mentioned that there was a vast sparring area under the shop. The quincy immediately started yelling at the bald man, and jumping all around the two captains to try to prevent them from leaving. All he succeeded in doing was to draw murderous gazes from all three parties. The older quincy suddenly appeared, hovering over the boy, with the younger exclaiming that he had it under control and he should go away.

_Ah. His father, then. Yes, seeing them side by side, the resemblance is unmistakable. Regardless. I think I will speak to the old man all the same._

"Matsumoto!" a young voice called out.

"Oh, Captain, there you are! Hic!" a drunken female voice responded. "Wassup?"

Any semblance of conversation from that quarter quickly degenerated into female laughter.

"Oh, no! Who gave Lieutenant Kusajishi alcohol?!" Kira exclaimed, catching sight of a wobbly pink form from across the room. "Hisagi-san!"

Hisagi quickly responded. "Yes. Kira, let's go deal with it!"

They ran by Mayuri, accidentally bumping into a red-headed lieutenant who was trying to balance several plates of food on his way across the room. "Sorry, Abarai!"

The plates crashed, Abarai lying beneath them.

"Um, excuse me?" a timid voice called out, and a tiny girl appeared with a broom.

Abarai looked extremely apologetic. "Oh, I'm very –"

"Butt out, Freeloader!" a loud red-haired kid yelled. "I'm sick and tired of playing clean-up crew! You're all making a mess in here!"

Abarai immediately lost his temper, the pulse on his temple pounding. "Why you little –"

The two proceeded to wrestle, not stopping until a smiling Unohana stood right on top of them.

This drew a soft chuckle from Mayuri's right – Kuchiki's sister was leaning against a nearby wall, slightly amused at Abarai's antics, but looking overall dejected. Upset at the Shinigami Substitute's absence, perhaps?

 _Pah. Whoever willingly attends events such as this has the intelligence of an amoeba._ He supposed this placed Kurosaki a bit higher on the evolutionary scale.

The front door then opened to welcome Hirako and several other visored, carrying some drinks and gifts for everyone.

A slipper flew across the room hitting Hirako in the face, followed closely by a foot and the loud blonde shinigami it was attached to.

"Shinji, you idiot! It's been hours! Didja get lost on the way here, dumbass?!"

Hirako jumped up off the ground, shouting back. "Gimme a break, Hiyori!"

"My, my, it's getting quite lively in here," Ukitake observed from where he sat with Kyoraku and Ise. A coughing fit overtook him, and his two shadows appeared out of nowhere: they stockpiled him with several dozen glasses of water; thumped his back, each thud louder than the last, arguing who could do it better; and finally attempted to wrap him up even further, in more blankets and hats and scarves until only the ends of his long white hair were showing.

 _Indeed,_ Mayuri agreed silently. Quite lively. Quite annoying. His job in transporting the hollow was done, he had looked around the shop all he cared to, and had 'participated' in the celebrations as ordered. It was time to leave. Flicking crumbs off of his fingers, Mayuri turned to do just that, when he noticed a skirmish right outside the doorstep of the shop.

Evaluating the situation quickly, he flew across the room, easily overtaking the orange-haired girl and shoving Urahara aside. There was absolutely no way, after all the time and effort he had put into recreating that arrancar, that he would let his specimen be discovered now.

"– an expression, you know exactly what it means!" Utagawa was arguing.

The espada's voice was quiet but firm. "This is your last warning, Shinigami. If you do not let go, I will –"

Before he could finish, a pale hand with one long purple nail pushed an unsuspecting Inoue violently through the door, grabbed Utagawa by the collar and pulled her inside the building, and slammed the door shut, placing himself in front of it for good measure.

"What?" he inquired of the speechless third seat gaping at him.

Hoshi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to admit, he was efficient, and ruthlessly so, but his methods  _sometimes_ …

"And what are you all staring at? Have your brains finally expired? Shall I fetch some slides to put samples on?" Mayuri turned on the rest of the room that had fallen silent at their exchange. "Nemu!"

"Yes, Mayuri-sama," Nemu said quietly, appearing wraith-like at his shoulder, and materializing some kind of large black control with a red button on it.

The noise level quickly rose again, everyone returning to their former activities with an edge of panic. The last thing anyone wanted was to be taken in for study.

Hoshi opened her eyes, and slowly tried to make her way to the door, intending to slide it open a smidge just to check that everything was alright.

For the second time that night, a pale hand grabbed her.

"Do not interfere with the test subject," Kurotsuchi stated simply, but threateningly, before walking away.

Hoshi rubbed her neck, sore from the fabric roughly rubbing against her skin. She hoped that this was merely his way of talking about sensitive issues, and not an indication of Ulquiorra's new state of existence. She had heard first-hand, from Ishida, about the parasites he had instilled in the quincy's body for observation purposes.

Not for the first time these past several months, Hoshi wondered what kind of fate she had subjected the hollow to.

At least, she comforted herself, with the Winter War over, Ulquiorra off her hands, and the zanpakutō returned to their natural forms, her life in Seireitei should be returning to some semblance of normalcy.

She smiled at the thought.

* * *

 

"You are a strange human, woman."

Orihime hadn't really had time to fully understand what happened.

One minute, Urahara-san was eagerly waving at her from the door and she was on her way over to see what he wanted; and the next, she had been forcefully pushed outside, colliding with something hard, and the door had slammed behind her.

Still dizzy and shaking her head to recover from the impact, the first thing Orihime noticed upon opening her eyes to look at the hands that had caught and steadied her was that they were white. Very white. With black fingernails.

Any apology that Orihime had ready on her lips completely vanished from her mind.

Eyes growing wide, she slowly raised her head, as though almost afraid to entirely look up.

_It… it couldn't be. No, it couldn't. He's dead, he disappeared, turned to dust and I didn't even try… but…_

Her gaze moved from the slightly cold hands that gently held her wrists and up the arms they were connected to, to a painfully familiar white coat with black borders, a sharp chin, and teal markings running down each cheek.

She took a moment longer before finally meeting the large, vivid eyes that had haunted her conscience for the past several months.

She forgot how to breathe.

Ulquiorra was standing in front of her. Back-lit by the moon, like he had been on that night, his hair, his helmet, even his clothes – all were the same, exactly as she remembered. He was the same; as if he had never disappeared in the first place.

But this was her world and her moon, not his, and it had been months of built-up guilt and sobbing alone in her apartment after smiling all day in school; of casually leaving out  _that_ topic when conversation came around to Hueco Mundo, and if Kurosaki-kun or Ishida-kun had ever thought about that night they never let on.

And now, he was here.

Surprise, shock, relief, regret, guilt – a storm of emotions overcame Orihime, and, not knowing which to express first, her only outward reaction was to start tearing up.

She slowly raised a hand to Ulquiorra's cheek, to make sure that he was really there. He did not speak, but did not move to reject her gesture either. He stood perfectly still. As her warm palm came into contact with his cool skin, there was no denying it –  _It's really him. He really is here._  Letting her hand rest on his face, she opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out.

The tears started falling faster.

And then he had gone and uttered those words, the same ones he'd spoken to her when they first met – that day in the park seemed like several lifetimes ago now – and Orihime broke down crying, grasping the front of Ulquiorra's shirt with both hands and sobbing into his chest.

If she had looked up, she would have noticed Ulquiorra's eyes widen for a moment before falling back into their usual neutral expression.

The espada stood there awkwardly. It seemed he still couldn't make any sense of her at all. He had expected her to be upset. After all, why wouldn't his presence disturb her? But her reaction was not one of sorrow or anger or despair, not with the way she was clutching him close to her in a surprisingly strong grip, and showing no signs of relinquishing her hold. Not knowing what to do, he slowly raised a hand and placed it on her shoulder.

Waiting for the woman to stop crying and regain composure of herself, Ulquiorra looked at the offending door of Urahara's shop and let his eyelids drop. That shinigami. He'd have a word with her later.

Eventually, the heaving turned into sniffles, and Orihime finally chanced another look at his face.

"I… I can't believe… it's you!" the orange-haired girl exclaimed. "It's really you! How? How are you here? When did you get here? Does everyone know you're here? Is this a  _gigai_? Ahh, of course not, stupid question, I can see your hole and mask. Oh, I completely ruined your shirt! We'll have to have it dry cleaned, I don't think this material can be washed. Wait, that's your espada uniform, isn't it? How did you guys clean your clothes? You didn't have dry cleaning in Hueco Mundo, did you?" Orihime continued talking, fast, trying to laugh off her earlier crying fit by lightly deprecating herself, saying how stupid he must think she is.

Ulquiorra glanced down at his shirt, now completely soaked through to his skin with the effects of her outburst. It was of little importance to him, but clearly it upset the woman further. He had never heard her so talkative, but it was obvious she was going to continue like this all night if he didn't stop her now.

" _Onna_ ," he said quietly, and gently took hold of both her wrists again, to stop her frantic gesticulations.

Orihime stopped immediately, leaving off in the middle of a sentence.

Ulquiorra let out the briefest of tired sighs, but something akin to softness laced his voice when he next spoke. "It is good to see you as well."

It only took a moment to get the gears turning in her head: that she had crashed into Ulquiorra; that she had proceeded to fling herself and cry all over Ulquiorra; that Ulquiorra had held – no, was still holding – her wrists, that he was still very, very close to her; that Ulquiorra was _glad_  to see her.

Orihime started turning her usual shade of bright brick red out of embarrassment.

Promptly snatching her hands back from Ulquiorra, as though they were on fire, she fought the instinct to run and hide and perhaps wear a paper bag over her head for the rest of her life. More apologies were uttered with a lot more gesturing around, and Orihime resumed talking at the speed of light.

Ulquiorra looked on with what would have been curiosity or amusement on anyone else's face. There had been a moment, when the woman had tugged her hands out of his, that his chest had felt… heavy? The sensation had left quickly enough, as he had correctly deduced from the blush coloring the woman's face that she was most likely embarrassed of her conduct, and he thought nothing more of it. He returned his focus to her.

The woman was asking about what he was doing in the living world.

"I was on my way to Hueco Mundo. Two shinigami revived me in secret, for reasons I have yet to determine, and I have been slowly recovering my strength in Soul Society," Ulquiorra explained. "As I don't currently possess the strength to open a  _garganta_ undetected, the shinigami brought me here instead." He decided to leave out the part about his now-former hostess forcibly dragging him here to meet with his former prisoner.

"Oh," Orihime responded, putting an index finger to her lips. "So Soul Society doesn't know you're alive. Then how come you came by Urahara-san's shop? Oh, wait, I know! Do you have to go to Hueco Mundo right now? Can you stay here a little? If you have time, we can trade stories! I was going to go home soon and make some snacks, anyway… "

She drifted off in thought.

Ulquiorra put his hands in his pockets. "There is nowhere in particular that I have to be."

The woman's face lit up, but before she could say anything, he spoke again. "Although, if I will be staying in the living world, I suppose I should inform the two shinigami I was with. As I understand it, there has been a pact of non-aggression reached with Harribel. If a shinigami on patrol were to sense an espada's unexpected presence here, it could damage relations to the detriment of both sides."

"I can run in and tell them now!" Orihime offered. "Who is it?"

"Mayuri Kurotsuchi, Captain of the Twelfth Division, and Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division," Ulquiorra recited.

"Um." Orihime paled considerably. "I think I'll just find Utagawa-san and tell her, if that's okay with you. I'm sure she can tell Captain Kurotsuchi for us."

Having nodded his consent, Ulquiorra watched Orihime run back inside the shop. Loud voices and music broke into the night as she opened the door, quickly being reduced to a low hum again when it closed behind her.

No, he was not opposed to spending some time in the world of the living.

There was nothing waiting for him in Hueco Mundo. No superior to report to. No orders. No goal. He had been extremely loathe to think about this matter, and adamantly refused to admit to himself that this was most likely the source of his unexpected hesitation at the prospect leaving Soul Society. The idea of floating adrift, once again, in that endless desert, without purpose, left a strange taste in his mouth. There was a time, not so long ago, that he would have taken immediate comfort in the nothingness such a situation afforded. Now, it merely sent something he could not define – almost slippery and slightly metallic – to slither down his throat and coil in the pit of his stomach.

In any case, he did not think his shinigami stewards would object to the woman's suggestion. Particularly Utagawa. Ulquiorra was far from stupid. This had been her ulterior motive for bringing him here all along, after all.

He would really need to have a word with that shinigami the next time he saw her.

 


	5. Enter The Panther

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

It was March – the long winter finally stepping aside to allow spring to settle in, cold and wet and just as unpleasant – and for the fourth time that month, Hoshi Utagawa found herself travelling through the disturbingly familiar passageway of a _garganta_.

It wasn't that she didn't see the need for 'research,' or whatever the head of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute chose to call it. She just didn't understand why it had to be done _now,_ when there were still a million other things to do to get Soul Society back on its feet. Kurotsuchi had been obsessed with 'collecting specimens' ever since he had discovered the Octava Espada's lab during the invasion of Hueco Mundo; at any given moment, he was most likely to be found there, much to the annoyance of his own division. Hoshi had quickly discovered the topic of the hollow world to be taboo around the Twelfth Division barracks when she had mentioned the place in passing and had earned one of Akon's dirtier looks.

Unfortunately, the scientists weren't the only ones suffering.

For some unfathomable reason, the Captain-Commander had not seen a problem with Kurotsuchi's continued trips and had given him permission to continue for as long as Harribel's inexplicably charitable mood lasted.

No one knew what, precisely, Hueco Mundo's new ruler thought of the constant visits by the shinigami. The only thing certain was that there had been no interference. Other than the wildlife and a stray low-level hollow now and again, there had not been a soul in sight in the lab or the surrounding area. It was almost as though Harribel was keeping everyone away from there.

Hoshi hoped this was the case. It would mean that the hollow finally had a decent ruler, one that could piece their world back together after Aizen's madness had torn it apart and left it to rot. That man had disturbed the natural state of all three worlds – shinigami, hollow, and human. She figured they all deserved some peace, even the hollow, as strange as that sounded coming from a shinigami, and one who was particularly skittish around hollow at that.

She had heard, from the others, of Aizen's treatment of his 'dear espada' during the battle over fake Karakura. The seated officers of the Gotei may have been told in their briefings that the hollow were working with Aizen willingly, and had accepted him freely as their leader, but the wreckage that had greeted Hoshi when she arrived at the fake town with Ichigo told a slightly different story. Coming across Inoue putting Harribel's broken body back together, while her fracción looked on, screaming and crying, she had shuddered to think of how Aizen must have treated his subjects that ranked even lower.

Hoshi still viewed hollow in general as the enemy, of course – a threat, most of them mindless beasts, to be disposed of at all costs – but her increased exposure to arrancar, during the war and after, was beginning to temper the prejudice that all shinigami were instilled with from a young age.

Hueco Mundo was a dangerous place, however, so to ensure the safety of Kurotsuchi's research teams, a detachment of shinigami from another division would always accompany them. In this peach-haired third seat's most humble opinion, the presence of both the captain and the lieutenant of the Twelfth Division was more than enough protection. But what did she know.

As the Sixth Division had been responsible for the complete destruction of the Research and Development facility, a fact that Hoshi had no doubt Kurotsuchi would milk for all it was worth, they were a prime candidate for the task. Thus, whenever her former captain got it into his thick skull to prance off to the hollow world, Hoshi had to ready herself for a fieldtrip as well. Occasionally, Renji or one of the other seats would head the team, but Captain Kuchiki felt that with her connections in the Twelfth Division, she was the best suited to observe and report back to him, both on the hollow and on Kurotsuchi's activities.

Hoshi grumpily blew some unruly strands of hair out of her face. What on earth gave everyone the impression that she had the time to spare for these excursions?

Her sullen mood must have been palpable enough to reach the slender form whose steps she currently dogging through the seemingly endless void.

"It is because you are too efficient," Ulquiorra observed, accompanied by a short glance over his shoulder at her.

"Hmph," Hoshi responded, looking off to the side, still somewhat sore about the direction her duties had taken since Aizen's defeat.

She reluctantly granted that, in this particular case, there really was no one else to accompany Ulquiorra back to his world.

Hoshi left off her inner musings and took to examining the arrancar's back.

It was a little strange seeing him in his espada outfit again (that he had meticulously repaired during those first few weeks of living with her), after he'd been wearing human clothes for – wait, had it already been a couple of months?

Ever since the New Year's party, Ulquiorra had taken up residence with Inoue in the living world, claiming that he had developed an educational interest in humans and that there was nothing left for him in Hueco Mundo in any case. Hoshi did not know the particulars of the arrangement or how they had come to it, but everyone's favorite orange-haired healer did not seem to mind the prospect of having a roommate for an indeterminate period of time.

Urahara and company were also in the know, a tiny miscalculation due to Hoshi's slip-up at the door when she had brought Ulquiorra to talk to Inoue that night. It had resulted in a painfully long drawn-out conversation between the shop keeper and Kurotsuchi the very next day, with everyone involved gathered around the dining table to watch. The sly, baiting remarks from one party and the sneering, angry replies from the other had escalated until a small compact green _cero_ fired between them had put an end to it. Ulquiorra had not been fond of being fought over by shinigami. Jinta and Ururu had hurried to clean up the mess, conveniently removing themselves from imminent danger, while Tessai-san had raised a _kidō_ barrier around the shop, in case any shinigami around had sensed the attack. Orihime had flung herself between a furious Kurotsuchi and an unimpressed Cuatra Espada, trying to diffuse the tension by laughing out a weak explanation.

After being assured, yet again, that his precious experiment was not being nabbed by Urahara, Kurotsuchi had finally left.

The look he had worn on his face, as well as the slightly menacing, 'Utagawa. Stop by my office when you get back,' that he had uttered as he had gone outside to open a _senkaimon_ , had left Hoshi slouching in her seat, miserably sipping at her tea. The trio of stuffed mod souls had given her supportive pats with their tiny plush hands, while Tessai-san had solemnly refilled her cup.

'My, my, he's still such a troublesome fellow.' Urahara had smiled behind the fan he had whipped open and raised to his face. 'Now then, shall we get down to business?'

The candy shop owner, on the other hand, had been quite laid-back about the whole idea. Whether that was surprising or only to be expected, Hoshi had yet to decide. What she did know was that Urahara was far too happy about outfitting Ulquiorra with a _gigai,_ even if it was the first time he'd be making one for a hollow. He was no doubt already planning what kind of countermeasures to install in it in order to throw Kurotsuchi's research off.

There was one thing, however, that Urahara was quite adamant about, momentarily losing his playful demeanor and becoming the ex-captain they all too often forgot he was – to never leave the former espada unattended at any time. Inoue bore the brunt of this task, though Hoshi strongly doubted she had any problem with it. And when the human girl was at school, Ulquiorra would spend the day at the shop. Urahara claimed that this was the fastest way for Ulquiorra to acclimate and become educated about humans, while keeping himself alert and busy, but Hoshi thought it sounded more like daycare for the hollow and another free laborer for Hat-and-Clogs.

The thought brought a wry smile to her lips as she watched the arrancar walking in front of her, coat-tails swishing behind him.

"So, why are we going to Hueco Mundo again?" she asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

"There is something there I must retrieve," he replied succinctly. "Do not make me repeat myself again, Shinigami."

"Yes, but you're conveniently leaving out what exactly this _thing_ is," Hoshi continued.

Ulquiorra paused, briefly. He turned his head slightly back in her direction.

"Do you doubt my intentions?"

"Of course not," Hoshi quickly assured him with a wave of her hand, once she saw the intensity of his gaze.

His words had been spoken slowly and quietly. Was he concerned about his standing with her? Ulquiorra had never given any indication he cared either way. She didn't fully trust him, of course, but she didn't exactly distrust him either. Over the past few months, he had solidified in her mind as a creature of logic, and so far Hoshi could see no reasonable motivation for him to turn on her or Inoue or anyone else. Honestly, she hadn't even blinked when he had informed Urahara that he would be making a quick trip to Hueco Mundo, much less suspected any untoward behavior.

For one, he was not their prisoner; not really. Urahara had promptly disposed of the shock collar Kurotsuchi had tagged the arrancar with as soon as the Twelfth Division's captain had disappeared, though Hoshi suspected he had other, more subtle means of ensuring everyone's safety around their new companion.

And for another, Ulquiorra was so unlike any other hollow Hoshi had ever encountered. Certainly, he was dangerous; she would never forget the night he fought with Ichigo above Las Noches for as long as she lived. But his subdued manner and virtual apathy stood in complete contrast to the almost mindless aggression that characterized the hollow, whether they were arrancar or not, and Hoshi found it increasingly difficult to think of him as one of them.

Perhaps Ulquiorra was right. Perhaps she was getting a little too comfortable around him.

"I was just curious, that's all," she added, by way of breaking some of the awkwardness that had settled between them.

Ulquiorra resumed walking. "Do not be. It is a matter of no consequence to you."

Hoshi followed, as before, and rolled her eyes at him behind his back.

_He is so predictable in his reactions, it's almost endearing._

The passageway finally ended, and hollow and shinigami came out on the other side, landing in a deserted stretch of hallway.

Hoshi looked around.

Despite the beating that Las Noches had received during the Winter War, this section appeared to be relatively intact. There were only minimal losses along the walls and none of the foundation pillars seemed to be damaged. Looking up, she was greeted by the eternally black sky of this world, broken up into a jigsaw puzzle by some blocks of ceiling that still clung stubbornly to their spots. The moon was just as she remembered.

"This way," Ulquiorra briefly stated, as he took down the hall to the left.

Hoshi trotted after obediently, alert for any hollow that might still be around.

The winding hallways seemed to continue forever. Turn after turn after turn, her arrancar companion showed no signs of stopping or slowing down. After only a short while, Hoshi had to admit to herself – she had absolutely no clue where they were. She only hoped that Ulquiorra still remembered his way around the place. She'd be damned if she knew how he was navigating, everything looked the same – straight, white, and empty. Even the lighting fixtures were all identical.

_Well, damn, Aizen. You didn't have to go out of your way and make it look so… homey. Who_ wouldn't _want to live here?_

Hoshi ran her fingers along a segment of wall that looked a little lighter than the rest. They came away with a faint dusting of white.

_Hmm, I wonder if Harribel is doing repairs_ , she mused, rubbing her fingertips together to get rid of the substance. _The place needs it, that's for sure, if they're all still living here. They must be, the lights are all on and working. There's so much of the ceiling missing though, I wonder if – wait…_ does _it even rain here? I've actually never seen water of any kind…_

"Hey, Ulquiorra –" she began to ask, as they rounded yet another corner.

She never got to finish her question.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" a bad-tempered voice challenged from somewhere around knee-height.

* * *

He had lost count of how long he had been sitting in this hallway.

His rooms were only a few more corridors over. If he could just reach them, if he could just find the strength to –

_Shit!_

Grimmjow fell back down against the wall, his body hitting the cold floor hard. He could feel the warm liquid cover his skin, starting to seep out again from his latest effort to get up, his hands slick and sticky with it, leaving red prints everywhere. The coolness of the stone against his back gave him shivers, especially when paired with the hot blood that covered his front. He probably he had a fever. His vision was blurring, too, the darkness at the edges growing closer.

_Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!_

Harribel was around the palace somewhere, with her fracción trailing behind her as usual. Same with Nel. But he'd be damned if he'd let them see him in this state, let alone ask them for help.

It had been several months since Aizen's defeat.

He had first heard about it from some lower-class Adjuchas who had been hanging around the main hall of Las Noches. Harribel had just returned, her three girls in tow. They had been in bad shape.

They had been alone.

According to a large, dog-like hollow (who had put Grimmjow on edge as he stood in the hall, bloody and unsteady on his feet, the smell of recent near-death still on him), Aizen and his two shinigami commanders had set out for the living world yesterday, with the Primera, Segunda and Tres Espada and all their fracción accompanying them.

The four females had shown up a few hours ago and had gone straight to their residence without a word to anyone. This had led everyone to speculate that Aizen and all the others must have been killed by Soul Society.

The arrancar left in Las Noches had found themselves congregating in the main hall little by little, waiting for someone to give them direction.

Grimmjow had heard all he needed to.

Plucking Nel from where she had been hiding in the folds of his _hakama_ from the attentions of a drooling broken-masked gillian, he had pushed past the small group that had formed around him and the canine arrancar. The crowd had easily parted before him, all the hollow almost scrambling to get out of his way.

With his hand firmly gripping the little brat's head and trailing her along through the air, Grimmjow had made his way to Harribel's palace to demand to know what the hell was going on.

Her fracción had been stupid enough to refuse him entry, claiming that their precious Harribel-sama needed to rest. He had been about to start wiping the floor with them when Harribel's voice had drifted out to the terrace, telling them to let him in.

Grimmjow had frozen, hand ready to punch the door aside.

Her voice had been… rasping. Weak. Not the voice of an espada. Definitely not the voice of the Harribel he knew and regularly pissed off.

At first, entering the messy inner room, Grimmjow had thought it was a pile of dirty, bloodied clothing that lay heaped up on the bed. And this was _after_ the princess had healed her?!

Fucking Aizen.

Grimmjow's eyes had hardened with every word Sung-Sun had spoken. He'd known it from the start. He'd known that the shinigami bastard would throw everyone away just as fast as he'd made them, and fuck if this had been their world to begin with. He had tried telling the others, back when his mask had first been broken and he'd seen Aizen switching out espada like fucking underwear. The blue-haired arrancar had yelled himself hoarse trying to convince them to help him get rid of Aizen before it was too late.

No one had listened.

The fact that that tea-obsessed shit had cut down Harribel, when she had been holding her own against several captain-class shinigami just fine, now proved it to Grimmjow beyond a doubt. He had been right all along.

Stupid bastards. Now they were all dead, and Harribel hadn't looked to be too far behind.

Not that he gave a shit.

Grimmjow had spun on his heel and left the Tres espada's quarters without a single word. _He_ was still around, that was all that mattered.

The feline arrancar grudgingly admitted that he had Nel to thank for that – the kid had crawled out of hiding once Yammy had finally died and the shinigami captains had disappeared, and had healed him as much as she could with her spit. Vomit. Whatever the fuck it was. Disgusting, effective, and he'd only put up with it until he had regained movement in his arms and legs. The little idiot had wanted to keep going, but he had snarled at her. He owed her enough already. Accepting anything more would take him from fairly miserable and plunge him straight into disgraceful.

Ever since then, Grimmjow would just casually happen upon Nel and the two dumbasses that followed her, as though by accident. He'd beat up anyone who gave her trouble, and then disappear on his own again, never saying anything. It was the only way he knew to repay her. If her fracción ever thought their run-ins with him an odd coincidence, given the vast size of Las Noches, they never mentioned it.

It had been several months now, and he still hadn't fully healed.

Nnoitra.

That bastard. If he hadn't interfered, Grimmjow was convinced he would have recovered by now. Kurosaki wouldn't have killed him, he was certain of that. He'd have recovered and found the orange-haired punk and they would have had their fated rematch long before this. But no, Nnoitra had to be a dick and had landed him a cheap shot.

Grimmjow had tried keeping a low profile in the long months following Harribel's return. The more rest he got, he reasoned, the faster he'd be back to full strength, and the faster he'd be able to find Kurosaki. And no one – and he meant, _no one_ – was going to interfere in their next battle.

That had been the plan.

But Grimmjow had never been one to sit idly and wait around. His agitation spiked to new levels when he sensed shinigami in Hueco Mundo, coming and going as they damn well pleased. Every single time he set out to hunt them, to let them know that they may have defeated Aizen but Hueco Mundo still had its own laws and its own king, Harribel had gotten in his way.

Frustrating didn't begin to cover it.

It had finally gotten to be too much. The last time Grimmjow had registered the shinigami's presence, he had stormed off into the desert ('In the opposite fucking direction! Happy?!' he had shouted at the blonde bitch who had blocked his path, _again_ ) to find some hollow to kill instead.

At first, it was going to be just a brief fight or two; just something to flex his mending muscles, to soothe his mind and make sure he hadn't gotten rusty. But his impatience to get going at full speed again took over his senses, once the blood lust of battle set in. It been too much too soon. He had overdone it.

_And now,_ he thought bitterly, _I'm back to square-fucking-one._ He was sure Harribel would get a kick out of this if she saw him; lecture him too, no doubt.

He'd rather die.

Grimmjow had the vague, uncomfortable feeling that he may have passed out for some time, because when he opened his eyes again he could hear voices and footsteps drawing closer, and he felt a heavy spiritual pressure he thought he'd finally been rid of forever.

_Ulquiorra._

* * *

Hoshi looked down and past where Ulquiorra had stopped in front of her to find a blue-haired arrancar splayed on the floor, barely able to support himself on the wall he was propped up against. A small pool of blood had collected around where he sat, and the wall had smears of red from where his body had slid against it.

Ulquiorra spoke. "Grimmjow."

It was more of a statement than anything else.

Hoshi frowned for a moment, mind scrambling to assign an identity to the name. Hostile, blue hair, blue eyes, a hole in his abdomen, half a jawbone for a mask – this must be the guy who wouldn't leave Ichigo alone.

She had heard about him from both the Shinigami Substitute and Inoue, though their accounts of the espada in question varied wildly. In between all the other tales she had been regaled with, both during and after the war, she remembered hearing about a particularly colorful arrancar; he'd done just about everything from gutting Rukia and mauling Ichigo repeatedly, to saving Inoue and ordering her to heal herself and his opponent. He had quite the personality, it seemed.

Last she had heard, he had been killed by a fellow espada, only shortly before she and the rest of the shinigami detachment to Hueco Mundo had arrived there.

_I guess he survived, then,_ Hoshi thought, running an assessing eye over the arrancar. _Though his current situation is not much better._

"Tch. I heard you were dead," Grimmjow said, as though thoroughly disinterested in them, turning his attention back to whatever he had been doing before they had showed up. It looked like he was attempting to patch up his profusely bleeding wounds with scraps from his torn jacket and _hakama_.

Hoshi mentally shook her head. There was a deep cut across the top of his stomach, and several thick gashes across his arms, chest and upper thighs. That wasn't even counting the numerous minor scrapes, scratches, and whatever was causing the blood to run down his face. And were those teeth-marks?! Even with her scant medical knowledge, she could tell that his efforts would not be nearly enough to stem the bleeding, not from any of his wounds.

"I got better," Ulquiorra answered evenly, as he stepped over the other hollow's legs to continue making his way down the hall. He didn't spare Grimmjow another look.

_Was that a joke?_ Hoshi's eyes widened a little. _Maybe Inoue_ is _rubbing off on him, after all._

"Are you coming?" Ulquiorra directed his inquiry at her, startling her out of her thoughts.

Before Hoshi could move, Grimmjow spoke again. "So you're keeping company with shinigami now? That's fucking pathetic."

Ulquiorra gave no indication that he had even heard him, footsteps never slowing and hands in his pockets.

Hoshi made to follow, easily stepping around the prone espada.

But Grimmjow, apparently, could not leave well enough alone. "Was it that human woman? Is she the reason you've sunk so low?"

"You know, you're not really one to talk," Hoshi interjected, before things could escalate. "Seeing the sorry state you're in, and all. If I was in your place, I wouldn't be drawing attention to myself."

"This is nothing!" Grimmjow lashed out, abruptly forgetting all about Ulquiorra to fixate on her instead. The sudden outburst caused more blood to flow out of his midsection. "I can take a weakling like you down anytime!"

"Oh, really?" Hoshi raised a brow. She should not be taunting him, her instincts screamed, but the power-balance was skewed enough right now due to his injuries to guarantee her security, and he was extremely annoying. She could see what Ichigo and Rukia had meant. Just when she had started giving hollow the benefit of the doubt, too. Perhaps Ulquiorra and Harribel really were the only exceptions to their race.

"You wanna fight?! Bring it on, Shinigami!" Grimmjow spat. He grabbed his sword from where it lay beside him and attempted to get up, using the blade as a support.

Hoshi moved quickly, closing the distance between her and the struggling arrancar, and dealt a solid blow with a _kidō_ -encased hand to his midsection, where his most serious injury appeared to be.

Grimmjow collapsed back down, sputtering, coughing up blood and heaving for breath.

"Come, Utagawa," Ulquiorra repeated from where he waited for her. That certainly got Hoshi's attention. He rarely used her name, though it had been occurring more often as of late. She really should, at some point, give some thought as to what it meant. "There is no need for you to waste your time on trash like this."

Hoshi straightened from her attack stance, and took a few hesitant steps towards her hollow companion.

"You know he's going to bleed out if he doesn't get help," she noted quietly. Killing hollow was one thing, but letting someone's life trickle out like this didn't sit well with her. It was like watching a once-wild animal desperately claw at survival, all broken.

Grimmjow's sharp ears caught her words. "I don't need any help! And I don't need your pity. I can heal myself on my own." He promptly focused once more on the gouges on his arms, and begun licking them with long swipes of his tongue.

"Oh, you're going to _lick_ them closed? Well, then, they'll heal up in no time," Hoshi offered sarcastically. He really was needlessly disagreeable, wasn't he? She returned her attention to Ulquiorra.

"Back off, Shinigami," Grimmjow growled, lips hovering over his forearm, as he continued to tend to his wounds.

"While it is true that arrancar saliva has regenerative abilities, only Nelliel has considerable healing powers in that regard," Ulquiorra explained to no-one in particular. "For the rest of us, it is negligible."

"Would you shut up and leave already?!" Grimmjow snapped, causing two heads to turn and regard him. The fact that neither seemed particularly fazed by him only increased his anger.

Hoshi looked at Ulquiorra. After a moment, the Cuatra Espada gave an imperceptible shrug and turned away.

"Your time is your own to waste as you wish. I have business I need to get on with. I will come fetch you when it is done," he stated, promptly turning his back on her and disappearing around a corner.

Hoshi nodded, mostly to herself. Tucking the annoying side-locks that always insisted on plaguing her face behind her ears, she took a few steps back to where Grimmjow still lay on the floor.

"I said I don't need your help." He narrowed his eyes threateningly at her.

_Does he really think he's intimidating anyone in this state?_ Hoshi continued to approach him.

Grimmjow started to snarl and lunge at her, trying to swipe at her with his hand, when her own flew out again. He found himself on the floor once more, the lingering trace of _kidō_ pricking the skin along the top of his stomach and dizziness setting in.

"And quit doing that!" he bit out with as much venom as he could muster, though the pain lacing his voice negated most of the effect.

Choosing to ignore him, Hoshi settled on the floor beside him and opened her travel pouch. She took out several lengths of bandages, a few small bottles of liquid, and a syringe.

Another benefit of having once had an insane scientist for a captain – you never knew when you'd be assaulted by explosives, poisonous fumes, or parasites, among other things, so you had best be prepared for anything. It had eventually solidified into a very useful habit, and one that Renji, especially, frequently took advantage of.

"What's that?" Grimmjow eyed the bottles suspiciously.

He had quieted down considerably. Finally. When not yelling, his voice lost the rough edge Hoshi already associated with it, and took on a much deeper tone. She suspected it wasn't a common occurrence; this espada was born loud. She'd gladly take what respite she could get.

"A coagulant," she answered absent-mindedly, eyes on the syringe she was currently preparing. She flicked it with her finger several times. She decided to tack on an explanation. "To stop your blood from flowing out."

"I know what a coagulant is," Grimmjow muttered sullenly, his face darkening as she took hold of his arm.

Hoshi just half-raised an eyebrow as she looked him right in the eyes and prepared to inject him with the substance.

She immediately regretted the decision.

Why hadn't she realized what a piercing blue his eyes were? Perhaps it was the contrast with the bright red blood on his face that made them so, or the fact that he kept them half-lidded so you didn't notice until you were up close, but their intensity was painful. Unnerving.

Trying her best not to show him how unsettled she was, Hoshi stabbed the arrancar with the needle and pushed down on the syringe pump, resolving to never, ever do that again.

"Argh! That fucking hurts, woman!"

Grimmjow shot a glare at the shinigami.

She and Ulquiorra had pissed him off enough to get his blood pumping and clear his head, so that when he had spoken to them he had sounded far more coherent than he knew himself to be.

His joy at being able to cover up just how far gone he was had been short-lived, as the woman had overpowered him, not once, but _twice_.

_Pushy bitch._

And now she was turning him into a fucking pincushion.

Grimmjow chanced another look at her. The shinigami was now bent over him, washing out the cut on his stomach and stitching it up, taking every opportunity to inject him with that bright green liquid.

Sure, she looked confident enough right _now,_ but he strongly suspected that if he'd been at full strength, it would be a very different story. He could smell it on her. But she was sturdier than she looked, Grimmjow reluctantly allowed. Between her slight build and weak-ass hair color, he'd never have guessed her hands were this strong.

The only real medical treatment he had ever received was from Szayel's fracción; a bunch of weaklings, just like the pink-haired bastard they had served. Even so, he thought that this woman was a little heavy-handed for a healer.

Grimmjow said as much out loud.

She laughed.

Surprise colored his face before he could stop it. Not the reaction he had expected. This shinigami was fucking weird.

"That's because I'm not a healer," she chuckled. "Before I was assigned to my current position, I used to be a member of the Twelfth Division. Any medical knowledge I have comes from there."

Grimmjow made a non-committal grunt. From what he had bothered to hear during those tea parties Aizen had thrown, he vaguely remembered the Twelfth Division being described as scientists or some shit.

"I'm honestly more used to dissecting people than patching them up," she added softly. "But I think this will suffice." The shinigami finished wrapping up the last of the bandages, bringing the white strip around his torso one final time.

"Yeah, well, don't expect my thanks," Grimmjow sulked. "I never asked you to interfere."

A sharp pain shot through his ribcage – she had tugged that last bandage far more tightly than necessary. He bit back a curse, not wanting to let her know just how much it had _fucking hurt._

"I don't," she said smugly, collecting her things and standing up. "My bag was heavy with all those medical supplies, and I was tired of lugging it around. Now, it's lighter."

"Smartass," Grimmjow said under his breath, not entirely with bitterness. At least she had some backbone in her. Somehow, the core remnant of Aizen's army had been primarily female arrancar, and he was tired of dealing with them and their stupid antics. She provided a decent change.

The shinigami turned her back on the bandaged arrancar and walked over to Ulquiorra, who was standing a few feet further away.

_When the hell did he get here?_ Grimmjow hadn't sensed him at all. _Still a fucking creep._

Resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, he could hear the tell-tale sounds of a _garganta_ opening and closing. He cracked open one green-lined eye. They were gone.

Grimmjow let out a soft snort.

He was going to have to pay her back for the healing. There was no way in hell he'd leave this unsettled.

On the one hand, he hated being indebted to people.

_On the other…_ A grin started spreading over his features. _There's no reason I can't make this fun. Now I have a legitimate reason for harassing the shinigami. And Harribel can go shove her restrictions up her ass._

* * *

Ulquiorra had wondered briefly whether he should leave his shinigami companion alone with Grimmjow.

He had settled this internal debate before the two were even out of his sight. Of course he could leave her alone. Grimmjow was in no shape to do anything to anyone. And Utagawa had proven to be capable of handling herself, though she would never be near his own level, of course.

If he were honest with himself, Ulquiorra was quite surprised that Grimmjow had survived.

Given what he had been told by the woman – _No,_ he quickly corrected himself, _Orihime;_ he had promised to try and call her by her name – of what had transpired, assuming Grimmjow to be dead had been the most sensible conclusion.

Nelliel must have healed the Sexta Espada in the aftermath of the battle. The fact that five months had passed since then, and yet Grimmjow had clearly been rendered unable to move, told Ulquiorra that he most likely did not let Nelliel finish healing him properly. It would not be the first time in their forced partnership that Grimmjow had done this. In fact, were Ulquiorra to count the number of times he'd had to report to Aizen-sama that Grimmjow was incapacitated, he would quickly run out of fingers. A creature of higher intelligence would have learned their lesson the first time their strength failed them due to forgoing proper medical attention; Grimmjow, clearly, was not one such.

Ulquiorra's destination was not too far from where he had left Utagawa and that nuisance – a plain, unremarkable door, painted white like the rest of the palace's interior. There was absolutely nothing to distinguish it from the other three doors that littered this particular expanse of hallway.

His old rooms. Still locked, he noted with some satisfaction. Ulquiorra took the small key out of his pocket and opened the door.

The space inside was modest. Negligible, when compared to Szayel Aporro's underground residence in the Third Tower that had doubled as a laboratory, and had later expanded under the sands to include a separate domed structure, or Aaroniero's 'palace' that had occupied the top half of the same building; Zommari, the third occupant of that structure, had been left with a simple square room, off to the side on the ground floor.

Ulquiorra had regarded their living arrangements with distaste. He had no need of such extravagance.

Large green eyes took in the familiar reception area, where he currently stood, austere and sparsely furnished. Beyond it lay a bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen and washing room (he did not care for sharing facilities with the rest of the inhabitants of Las Noches), and a private reading room that he had rarely had the opportunity to utilize. A thin layer of dust coated everything, as one pale, extended finger easily confirmed. It was all as he had left it.

Ulquiorra was not sure how to feel. Had Orihime been here, she would have insisted that, surely, he could pinpoint _one_ emotion at least; a feeling of homecoming or some similar nonsense. Gazing around his former home, the arrancar felt nothing but emptiness. It was the same hollow sensation that had filled him when he had been told, by the orange-haired woman, of how Aizen had cut down Harribel.

'Of course,' he had responded to her. 'It is only natural that when something ceases to be of use to you, you get rid of it.' His words had been convincing enough to trigger a tearful outburst from her – he hadn't recalled her being this prone to anger – but Ulquiorra knew he had hesitated in his response. An unsettling feeling of something pricking at his periphery had come over him upon hearing the woman's story. It was not emptiness like the kind he had experienced in the days before his mask had been broken; that nothingness had been soothing. This was heavier, almost physical in its presence. As with all things, he had buried it in the recesses of his mind, to deal with at a more convenient time.

Ulquiorra made his way to the dresser by his bed, and pulled open the top drawer. He took out a plain, silver bracelet, and briefly turned it around in his hands, inspecting it to make sure this was indeed what he was looking for.

He had recently been made aware of the human custom of giving gifts to someone on their day of birth. Orihime had begun such preparations for Sado Yasutora, although his birthday was not for another month, and had taken Ulquiorra along with her on her shopping trips. When he had commented on the futility of visiting numerous places without ever purchasing anything, she had explained at length about friends and how one had to take the time to find the perfect gift, something that was meaningful to both people.

Ulquiorra had not seen the point in gifts that were 'meaningful.' Personally, he would much prefer to receive something that was functional, that had a use and a purpose, rather than something that merely drew on some vague emotion.

He had voiced as much out loud. Orihime, as expected, taken issue with his point of view.

'But Ulquiorra, that's not the point of the gift,' she had argued back.

They had been sitting in her living room, every surface littered with scraps of what she said was 'wrapping paper.' She had been attempting to determine which one matched best the bright yellow flyswatter she had bought for her friend.

'Gifts are meant to connect people together, a physical way for them to share their feelings,' she had elaborated, finally picking a paper out and beginning to wrap the present. 'It doesn't matter if it has a practical use or not.'

Ulquiorra had shaken his head imperceptibly, and had continued drinking his tea. He still disagreed. Not only was the item in question a particularly glaring color, but it was full of large, 'decorative' holes. Try as he might, the logic of gifting Sado Yasutora with a defectively engineered flyswatter was beyond the arrancar.

The former espada had, however, spent that night thinking about the occasion. If it were the woman's birthday, should he gift her with something? He was currently enjoying her hospitality, and it seemed like the proper protocol. He had also promised that he would make an effort to participate in human activities, 'trying new things' to further his education; it would make her elated, no doubt.

But what could he possibly give her? Ulquiorra was certain she'd accept anything happily, with as much fuss as ever. He, however, would never be able to give something that he found impractical and useless. The item would just have to satisfy both their requirements.

The image of a silver bracelet had crossed his mind, and the more he had thought about it the more appealing he had found it. The woman would immediately seize upon it as an 'emotional' gift, given their past connection to it. And it was a fully functioning tool as well, a useful item to have on hand in the event she ever needed to hide her presence. Yes, it would suffice. Ulquiorra had no idea when her birthday actually was, but it was best to be prepared.

He dropped the bracelet into his pocket, selected several changes of clothes from his closet (it was the perfect opportunity to pick up some spares, he reasoned), walked out of the room, and locked the door behind him. He may not live here currently, but he would not allow others entry into his private chambers, regardless.

Walking briskly back to where the shinigami and Grimmjow were, Ulquiorra thought he heard the woman's laughter echo off of the blank walls. Furrowing his brows slightly, he picked up his pace.

When he arrived, Utagawa had finished whatever treatments she had subjected Grimmjow to and was standing over the still-immobile arrancar. She said something dismissively, possibly sensing his own presence, and walked over, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

Ulquiorra gave her a curt nod, to indicate that his business was complete, and turned around to open a _garganta_ for them. The shinigami jumped in first and he followed, never once acknowledging the existence of his former colleague as he closed the passage behind them.

* * *

Hoshi sat and waited in the main area of the Urahara Shop for its owner to return with the items she had requested.

She sighed and stretched her arms, a little restless at the prospect of the next few weeks. Somehow, she had ended up in the rotation for living world posts, and, as such, was going to be in Karakura Town until the end of April.

_Honestly,_ Hoshi thought to herself as she pulled her hair up in a messy bun, hair-tie between her teeth, _just because Renji hangs out in this place often enough to have a spot reserved in Ichigo's high school, doesn't mean the rest of the Sixth has to get dragged along too._

The thought of so much free time on her hands, in between patrols and fighting hollow, was a little daunting after having worked non-stop for months on end. She wasn't sure she remembered how to go about occupying herself.

The strangeness of her current living arrangements was also a source of mild anxiety.

Following the end of the Winter War and the return of Hirako and several others to Soul Society, the Gotei Thirteen had repurposed the warehouse where the visored had lived to serve as a home base for the shinigami that were stationed in the living world. With its impressive square footage and ready-made underground training area, it was the perfect place. It also had the added benefit of Hachigen's barrier – he and a few other visored had elected to stay behind, and still resided in the warehouse – which rendered the building and all its occupants invisible and, for the most part, undetectable.

Hoshi didn't really have an issue with the visored, although their masks and hollow-like _reiatsu_ set her on edge whenever they used them; in fact, she had been impressed with the Captain-Commander's decree that they be welcomed back into the fold. She was just a little bitter at how the Ninth Division had been handled.

Sure, the Third and Fifth Divisions could most definitely benefit from the reinstatement of their former captains: Hinamori had been in a forcibly-induced coma for over three months, and Hitsugaya had tried to manage her squad along with his as best as possible; meanwhile, Kira had suffered yet another betrayal from someone he had come to trust as his captain, and the whole unit was suffering from insecurity and loss of integrity. Both divisions, in Hoshi's opinion, would need serious work and a long recovery period, if not outright therapy, to bring them back to where they had been in the days before the Ryoka Invasion.

But the Ninth Division was a slightly different matter, in her mind. She firmly believed that Shūhei more than deserved the rank of captain.

In the chaotic aftermath of Aizen's defection, Hoshi had gotten to know the Ninth Division's lieutenant quite well. She had helped him out with some reports once or twice – seeing him devolve into complete panic when everyone else had bailed out on him, she had taken pity on him – and soon had found herself spending several late nights a week at the editorial offices of the _Seireitei Communication._ What started out as a casual association quickly turned into a solid friendship, and, more than anyone, Hoshi was well aware of the work Shūhei put into maintaining his division. He was like a mother hen, fussing over every individual shinigami under his command, while also taking Kira and his squad under his wing. Between running a division with no captain and his duties as the editor-in-chief of Soul Society's bulletin (not to mention, all the extra odd jobs he always piled on his plate), Hoshi thought he had earned the title of most overworked shinigami in Seireitei. She was a close second contender.

_Shūhei deserves some recognition, at the very least,_ she ran through her mind, again, _not some dismissive, unappreciative, erstwhile role-model as his new captain._ She did not know Kensei Muguruma personally, but from what she had seen, she had not been impressed. And what was with having his old lieutenant share the position with his current one? That was just adding insult to injury. Shūhei, Hoshi knew, would never utter a word of complaint; someone had to be affronted on his behalf.

A vaguely familiar spiritual pressure suddenly appeared outside the shop and hovered by the entrance.

It was distinct enough that Hoshi couldn't fail to notice it, even lost in thought as she was. Its full strength, however, was clearly suppressed. Trying to place it for several moments and failing spectacularly, she decided to abandon Urahara – when he took this long, it was certain he had been completely sidetracked. She'd come back later for her things.

Sliding open the front door and stepping out into the sun, the Sixth Division's third seat was greeted by a wide grin and a shock of sky-blue hair.

"Yo," Grimmjow greeted. He was leaning lazily against the wall of the shop, hands in his pockets and one leg drawn up.

Hoshi felt the bottom of her stomach plummet. She was sure that her unease was plainly written all over her face. How could it not be, when the _reiatsu_ emanating from him was probably not even half of what he was capable of, and yet it was still this intense? Maybe she shouldn't have healed him.

She instinctively drew back a little from the arrancar. "Still alive, I see."

"Ha! Of course I am!" he stated, pulling himself off the wall and coming to stand in front of her. "I don't plan on going anywhere until I have that rematch with Kurosaki."

Hoshi rolled her eyes, despite herself, and quickly side-stepped around Grimmjow, resolving to get to the visored warehouse as soon as possible. He appeared mostly healed now, only the deepest wounds having left any scars – the result of a couple of weeks and Kurotsuchi's miracle substance. And she wasn't stupid. Hoshi knew that if this arrancar decided to attack her, there would be very little she could do to fend him off. Rukia had lost against him twice, and Ichigo had been hard-pressed before resorting to his hollow powers. There was no way she could win. Putting Hachigen's barrier between her and the potentially volatile espada was her best option right now.

Hoshi heard his footsteps slowly dragging on the ground behind her. Her curiosity got the better of her. Damn. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Grimmjow shrugged and matched her pace. "I got bored in Hueco Mundo, thought I'd check out this town for a while. Find some easy prey." He flashed a feral grin. "I recognized your spirit pressure."

"Lucky me," Hoshi mumbled to herself, increasing her speed. "Why don't you go bug Ichigo instead?"

Grimmjow's expression grew into one of annoyance as he easily caught up to her again. "That stupid bastard's lost his powers. He can't even see me! I tried stalking him, but the fun wore out after a few hours."

Hoshi turned her head to the left and gave him a _look_ to let him know exactly how childish that sounded. The fact that she had suggested the exact same thing to Renji only a few months ago, she determined, was irrelevant at the moment.

"You do realize," she said, glancing up and down the street, "that if one of the shinigami on patrol sees an espada waltzing about Karakura Town, you're screwed."

Grimmjow raised his brows and smirked. "You're a shinigami."

"I'm off duty," Hoshi rushed to answer. It wasn't a lie – her three-week shift technically didn't begin until later this afternoon. She also had absolutely no desire to deal with either the physical apprehension of an espada, or the long paper trail that would undoubtedly follow.

Grimmjow continued following her, showing no signs of letting up.

"Are you seriously going to follow me around?" she asked, exasperated, turning to look at him again.

_Out of all the bloody – why me?!_

"Didn't you hear me, idiot?" Grimmjow drawled out. "I'm bored. Hueco Mundo's become so dull since Harribel took over. Besides," he added in a much quieter tone, his perpetual frown deepening, "I've got a debt to repay to you. For healing me."

Hoshi froze. "Oh." She was at a complete loss for words. Had she heard right? Repay her? He hadn't struck her as the honorable sort. "That's – that's really not necessary," she finally said, finding her voice.

"Yes, it is. I don't like owing people." Grimmjow's tone was hard, his face dead-set and difficult to read. It didn't look like he'd brook any argument, but Hoshi decided she'd try anyway – the last thing she needed was a hollow trailing after her.

"No, really, it's fine; I don't care about it," she insisted, holding her hands up, palms out, to emphasize her point as she started walking again, a little faster than before.

"I don't give a damn what you think. If I say it's a debt, it's a fucking debt, and I'm gonna make it even." In a blink, Grimmjow was at her side again. "Don't think you can hold it over me!"

Hoshi fought the need to sigh dramatically. _Is he always this aggressive about everything? It must be exhausting, surely._

The warehouse finally came into sight, a sloppily renovated massive structure in between two equally dilapidated buildings – Hoshi had never been so grateful to see a place before. She half-sprinted past the _kidō_ barrier, expelling the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Grimmjow, as expected, was hurled back as soon as he made contact with the invisible shield.

"Gah!" The way his face contorted into absolute shock was pretty priceless, Hoshi granted; she had never seen eyes so round. She allowed herself a small snort behind the safety of the barrier.

"What the hell is this?!" Grimmjow demanded from where he lay sprawled several feet away.

Hoshi settled for the simplest answer. "It's a barrier."

"I can see that, dumbass!" he replied, standing up and dusting himself off. His eyes darted around, trying to pinpoint her exact location from the sound of her voice.

"This," she elaborated, jabbing her thumb at the building behind her (an action completely lost on the espada who was now experimentally prowling the perimeter of the barrier), "is our new official living space for when we're in this world for missions. It's shinigami only, sorry." With that, she turned on her heel to go inside, _hakama_ swishing around her, eager to finally put some real distance between her and the hollow.

"Oi, Shinigami," she heard him call out. "What's your name?"

Hoshi carefully considered whether she should answer or not. She spoke hesitantly. "Hoshi Utagawa."

Grimmjow's face broke out into his signature grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Sexta Espada."

"Yes, I know. Your reputation precedes you." Hoshi rolled her eyes at his theatrics and waved an invisible hand up at him, as she kept walking indoors. "Unfortunately, you're going to have to entertain yourself, as I actually have work to do. Have a good day, Espada."

Once inside, the peach-haired woman went up to the control that operated the large garage door and pushed the button to close it. Just for the added insurance. Before the door slammed down, she caught a glimpse of Grimmjow poking the barrier in different places with a finger, probably trying to find a way to get past it. The loud, metallic sound would hopefully convince him to leave.

Hoshi made her way upstairs to the third floor, where her assigned room was.

A head poked out from further above in the stairwell.

"Was that the door closing?" Lisa asked.

Hoshi looked up at the other woman. "Oh! Yes, I accidentally pushed the button out of habit." She shrugged apologetically.

Lisa snorted and pushed off of the railing. "Hell, I don't care, I'm not going to be stuck outside. If the others forget to carry the key to the side door, it's their own damn fault." She disappeared.

Hoshi chuckled. The visored certainly were an interesting bunch.

She edged her way around the large missing chunk of floor that ran through the building on every level, almost tripping over some scattered debris on the thin strip of concrete she was navigating. It was like an obstacle course in here. They really needed to get on with fixing this place up properly, though Hoshi doubted it would ever happen. The buckets of paint – that had been delivered back in January – still sat unopened downstairs.

Hoshi got her key to work on the third try (the lock was faulty, too), and after kicking her shoes off, she flung herself on her bed.

She let out a groan into one of her pillows.

Urahara was working full-time to reach an agreeable arrangement with Soul Society regarding Ulquiorra's continued presence in the living world. He had attended a captain's meeting recently, where he had broken the news to everyone. The only thing he had reported back was, 'Well, it could have gone worse.' While the Gotei staying out of the whole issue would be ideal, Urahara had said that, right now, he'd settle for the Second Division not deploying and killing the hollow outright.

Having a second espada show up at this particular moment in Karakura Town was just… peachy. Grimmjow couldn't have picked a worse time.

Several knocks sounded on the door, accompanied by a small female voice. "I'm coming in."

Hoshi turned her head to look at her visitor. Short grey hair poked out from behind a large stack of papers that were being balanced precariously by long arms. She sat up immediately. "Lieutenant Kotetsu – what can I do for you?"

The Fourth Division's lieutenant dropped the papers on Hoshi's bed with a loud 'oof' before replying. "I came here to do some shopping with Rangiku, and was handed these to give to you from your division." She gestured to pile between them. "Oh, and a note from Lieutenant Abarai."

Hoshi took the piece of paper, read the short message about getting backlogged and would she please help out with the paperwork, and face-palmed. _Really, Renji? I've only been gone a day._

The fact that he had made another division's lieutenant carry all that crap to the _living world_ – regardless of whether Kotetsu had been coming here or not – made her cringe. She was going to punch him so hard when she got back. Or maybe shave his precious hair off.

"I'm sorry, I tried to get you out of it," Kotetsu said apologetically.

"Please don't apologize, Lieutenant Kotetsu," Hoshi replied, "it's not your fault at all. Besides, now I have plenty of stuff to keep me busy while I'm here."

Hoshi began to sort through the piles as Kotetsu bid her goodbye and left. Well, at least this should help get her mind off of the whole espada mess.

A few hours later found Hoshi only through a third of the paperwork.

Her almost mechanical pace was interrupted by the beeping of her pager, again, indicating that yet another hollow had appeared. She sighed and put her pen down. She already hated the irregularity of the work; it was just one interruption after another, with no set patterns or schedule.

_And Ichigo and his friends do this every day? Just drop everything and go?_

She shook her head, grabbed her sword, and took off. So much for the peaceful afternoon she had hoped for.

* * *

Early afternoon found a pale, dark-haired man, of average height and with stunning bright green eyes, walking out of a convenience store and down one of the main streets of Karakura Town.

Passing the grocery bag from one hand to the other, Ulquiorra flexed his fingers, studying their movements carefully. The _gigai_ was not exactly uncomfortable, but he was unused to the restriction it placed on his spiritual pressure and physical power. The lack of his mask gave him a small shock every time he'd catch a glimpse of himself in a glass or mirror, and he had developed an almost nervous reaction of patting down the left side of his head, feeling the exposed skin and hair over and over again. The absence of his hollow hole felt strange, but not nearly as alarming.

It was preferable to the alternative, however: letting the wom – Orihime – do the shopping. He had made the grave error of accompanying her once or twice, and the excursion which, by his calculations, should have taken an hour at most, had ended up claiming the larger part of the day. Not only would she purchase all manner of unnecessary things, things that had not been on her shopping list to begin with, but she insisted on stopping to help anyone who looked like they needed assistance as the two of them walked to and from the shops.

She could not have cooked dinner tonight, in any case; she was still in school, and would be bringing her friends directly over to her apartment afterwards.

Orihime had finally decided to inform Ichigo Kurosaki and the others that a certain Cuatra Espada was alive and currently residing with her, and had somehow reached the conclusion that the best way to do this was over a home-cooked meal with himself present.

Ulquiorra had attempted to inform her that there was no 'best way' to go about this – Ichigo Kurosaki, and possibly the quincy as well, would take it very poorly. Her response, instead of cancelling her arrangements and coming up with a more logical plan, had been to practice her _Santen Kesshun_ through the night. Ulquiorra had put a stop to it once the clock had read four in the morning, by forcibly putting her in her bed and turning the lights off. She had protested, naturally, which had led him to threaten that he would tie her down and force her to rest if need be. The orange-haired woman had laughed so hard that tears had rolled down her cheeks. The arrancar had merely stood in the doorway of her bedroom. He couldn't understand what had warranted the near-hysterical outburst, but it was obvious that his past methods no longer had any effect on her. Ulquiorra had sighed and closed the door.

The Substitute shinigami and the others had agreed to the impromptu get-together only after Orihime had promised them that someone else would be doing the cooking. She had neglected to tell them who, exactly, but they had been too thankful to inquire further.

Ulquiorra had resigned himself to the task. He was not too put out, however; any opportunity to forgo Orihime's cooking was one to be thankful for. The arrancar would never admit it to Utagawa, of course, but he was grateful that she had let him do as he pleased in her residence during his days in Soul Society. He had become self-sufficient in the realm of food preparation, so that his visits to the Urahara Shop for stomach pains, fever, and heartburn were reduced to only a few times a month.

Orihime had given him that disappointed look of hers, when Ulquiorra had first informed her that he could not stomach her cooking. A strange sensation had come over him when he had seen her go quiet, and he had sought to modify his words – it was not necessarily a reflection of her cooking skills; perhaps it was because he was a hollow, and was still adjusting to the living world; or perhaps the _gigai_ was defective. Lies, as his first trip to Urahara's shop – rushing and convinced he had been poisoned – had confirmed his initial hypothesis to be correct: the woman's cooking was inedible. Necessary lies, however, as the former espada found he had no wish to see her upset. Orihime had brightened up after his convincing postulations and had never brought up the subject again, but Ulquiorra had made it a point to partake in the meals she made every now and then; each occurrence spaced safely apart, of course.

Ulquiorra raised his free hand to block the sudden onslaught of sunlight as he rounded a corner.

They might tear down the whole building down tonight at dinner, but at least he wouldn't be subjected to that horrible thing known as indigestion.

Turning on the second to last street to her apartment, as he had memorized, he suddenly felt an annoyingly familiar _reiatsu,_ wild and agitated as ever.

Grimmjow.

Ulquiorra had felt it earlier too, only a short distance from Urahara's, but when he had arrived at the spot, Grimmjow was gone and only traces of his spiritual pressure remained.

He did not wish to discuss the matter with Orihime – the woman hadn't seemed to have noticed at all, and there was no need to distress her over someone who was so far below her attention.

Ulquiorra had briefly considered finding and talking to Ichigo Kurosaki, although that meant Orihime's elaborate plans for dinner would have to be discarded; Grimmjow had been obsessed with the Substitute Shinigami, after all, perhaps he'd have a way of keeping the blue-haired trash in check. But he had quickly dispensed with that notion. The boy had successfully lost all of his powers. Not only would he be unable to help in any capacity, but Ulquiorra very much doubted that Grimmjow would be interested in him any longer. No, Ichigo Kurosaki, for all intents and purposes, was a lost cause.

Utagawa was going to be stationed here for the next couple of weeks. She was, however, residing with the visored. The arrancar had hoped to avoid any interaction with them.

_But this is the second time he's made an appearance in this town, all in a single day._

Deciding to take preventative action against that idiot instead of waiting around to see what damage he would undoubtedly cause, Ulquiorra abruptly changed his route and headed for where he knew the visored warehouse was located.

His steps soon brought him to the deceptively empty space between several buildings, a few streets over from Urahara's shop.

He waited patiently.

Ulquiorra was not disappointed. A few moments later, two women appeared – one short and yellow-haired, wearing a red uniform, and one considerably taller, with a long braid and a school outfit. They both held their weapons, sheathed, in their hands, but from the handkerchiefs tied around their heads and the dirt on their skin, they had clearly been house-cleaning.

"Who are you?" the taller one spoke first. "What do you want?"

"I need to speak with Third Seat Utagawa. Is she here?" Ulquiorra replied.

"Eh? Hoshi?" the short one responded. "Whaddya want with her?"

"That is my business," Ulquiorra answered shortly. "Is she here?"

"Not sayin'," the blonde one stated, crossing her arms across her chest. "Not before you answer some of our questions, baldy!"

Ulquiorra sighed. _Another hot-headed one. Why is that I am always surrounded by idiots?_

The other woman appeared to be calmer, studying him closely through the glasses sitting on her face. He addressed her instead.

"There's a certain matter I need to appraise her of," Ulquiorra said. "It would be to the benefit of all shinigami currently in this town. I do not like repeating myself, so I will ask only one more time: is she here?"

"Are you ignoring me, dickhead?!" the small one yelled, her voice echoing loudly off the concrete buildings surrounding them. "You're gonna get an ass-kicking for that!"

She drew her sword, but the other woman moved fast and firmly placed her in a head-lock.

"Lisa! Let me go, damn it!" her muffled voice came out from behind the other's sleeve.

"Shut up," the woman called Lisa said sharply. She turned to Ulquiorra, the smaller visored still struggling under her grasp. "We won't answer any of your questions until we know who you are. You clearly aren't human. But you're not a shinigami, either. If I didn't know better, I'd say the _reiatsu_ I'm sensing from you is that of a hollow, but I don't see a mask or a hole."

"Perceptive," Ulquiorra replied. "You have good instincts. I am indeed a hollow. Ulquiorra Cifer, Cuatra Espada. I obtained this _gigai_ from Kisuke Urahara, with whom I believe you are acquainted."

The two women stopped struggling. The short one easily pulled the other's now-limp arm away from her face.

A moment or two passed in silent shock, before both visored females exploded at the same time.

"Well, don't just come out and admit it like that!"

"Th-that fucking dickhead! What the hell does he think he's doing?! I'm gonna march over there right now and –"

"Aaaah, you're gonna do nothin' of the sort," a voice echoed from behind the barrier.

A tall, blond-haired man appeared, one limb at a time as he phased through the invisible wall.

"Shinji!"

"Geez, Hiyori," the man said looking skyward. "Ya can't just beat people up every time ya don't like what they do."

"Shinj–" the small angry one was muffled again, her face completely covered by the man's hand.

"I've heard all about it from Kisuke," he told Ulquiorra, as he turned his attention away from the menace attached to his left hand. "'S far as I'm concerned, we're good, so long as ya don't harm anyone."

The espada remained silent.

"Hoshi ran off ta take care of a hollow, that direction," Shinji continued, pointing eastwards. "Ya can probably catch up to her if ya –"

Ulquiorra promptly exited his _gigai_ and vanished, the fake body draped like a limp doll over one arm.

"– _sonído_." Shinji dropped his hand from Hiyori's face and clutched at his cap, scratching his head. "Maaaan, why'd Kisuke have'ta go and do this?"

A sandal to the face was his only answer.

"Dickhead!" Hiyori shouted. "Dickhead! Baldy! Baldy, baldy, baldy, baldy!" She assaulted his face with repeated kicks.

Lisa thought it was incredible that he didn't have a permanent sandal-sole imprinted on his skin.

"Whaddya mean, you knew?! When were you gonna tell us, dipshit?!"

The black-haired woman mentally blocked them out, an easy task due to years of practice, and returned to the warehouse through the barrier. She lay her sword down on one of the tables and picked up the broom she had discarded when their visitor had appeared, continuing her less than half-hearted sweeping. How had guard duty turned into playing housekeeper for the Gotei?

And now this.

_Well,_ she conceded, _maybe it's not so bad. Things could stand to get a little interesting around here._

It was only her, Hiyori, Love, and Hacchi now.

Everyone else had taken up their old lives in Soul Society, going back to fill the vacancies in their former squads, while the four of them had been left without a place.

Both the Ninth and the Twelfth Divisions had perfectly good lieutenants, and neither Lisa nor Hiyori were in any mood to work under the current captains. The Seventh Division still had its captain. And while she didn't know many details about the _Kidō_ Corp, Lisa suspected that it had been fully subsumed into the Second Division and divested of its separate leadership after the Hollowfication Incident.

Hiyori never said anything, but she wasn't fooling any of them – she had clearly hoped that Aizen's defeat would mean the return of those old Soul Society days they all had cherished so much. Not only had that _not_ happened, but she had lost Shinji as well. He came to visit – they all did – as much as possible, but it wasn't the same.

Soul Society taking what had been their home for almost one hundred years and turning it into some sort of shinigami hotel had been the last straw for the short visored. Her bad moods lasted longer, and her physical and verbal outbursts were more violent than ever. Lisa hoped that having a former espada hanging around the town – and Urahara's involvement in the matter – would be enough of a distraction for her.

With a few more short sweeps of the broom to get the dust pile out the large door, Lisa set it aside. Picking up her zanpakutō and her magazine, she proceeded to go find an empty corner to curl up in and read.

* * *

When Hoshi arrived at the place where she had sensed the hollow, it had already been dispatched; and by the most unlikely person imaginable.

Grimmjow sheathed his sword and turned to face her, looking down at her from where he had left the other hollow to disintegrate. "What the hell are you doing?"

"That's my line." Hoshi narrowed her eyes, as she leaped up to join him in mid-air.

"Your job, apparently," Grimmjow taunted with a smirk. "You're too slow."

Hoshi chose to ignore the second half of his comment, although it did make her fists clench in response. "Hardly. I doubt your zanpakutōpurifies hollow souls the way a shinigami's blade does."

"Pah, details," the espada said, looking off to the right, seeming to lose interest in their conversation.

"And why are you killing hollow?" Hoshi demanded. Ulquiorra was strange enough of an arrancar as it was; this guy just made absolutely no sense.

"It's all I am allowed to kill!" Grimmjow burst out, clearly irritated. A sullen explanation soon followed. "Harribel has forbidden any confrontation with humans or shinigami."

"How absolutely frustrating for you," she mocked. Her annoyance at his meddling had temporarily made her forget who, exactly, it was she was talking to, and she slipped back into her most familiar mode of address: sarcasm.

A mistake.

Hoshi never even saw him move. One moment, Grimmjow was standing a good distance away, relaxed and slouching; the next, his face was practically touching hers.

She felt a hand grip her throat, hard, as he accelerated his speed and slammed them both into a building. He kept his fingers wrapped around her neck, choking her, while he raised his other hand and positioned it threateningly at her lower abdomen.

"You wanna fucking go, Shinigami?" he hissed between clenched teeth. "Go ahead, give me an excuse to make an exception."

Hoshi grasped at his left hand, trying desperately to pull it away, if only enough for a single gulp of air. Her feet kicked around ineffectively. The blood throbbing in her ears continued to pound as she struggled, until it blocked out almost all sound. It couldn't have been more than nine or ten seconds, when Hoshi felt herself starting to go limp.

"Release her, Grimmjow," a firm voice commanded, from somewhere outside of her vision.

Grimmjow's impossibly blue eyes widened for a moment, before becoming hard-set again.

"Get lost," he spat out, not even bothering to look over his shoulder.

"Are you an idiot? You are going to draw all the shinigami in this town to you."

"It's none of your damn business!" The grip on her throat tightened.

Ulquiorra appeared next to the pair, unamused, and placed a strong hand on Grimmjow's extended left arm. "Unfortunately, it is. I could not care less what happens to you, but I will not have you disturbing my existence here. You will let her go."

"Blow me."

Ulquiorra gave no verbal response, but his gaze sharpened and he started amplifying his _reiatsu_ to the point that the building behind the three of them started shaking.

Grimmjow followed suit.

Neither arrancar had budged. They stared at each other, daring the other to make the first move.

Being this close to two espada slowly releasing as much of their spiritual pressure as they could in their sealed forms made the shinigami feel like she was going to be torn apart. She was convinced her skin was melting. Ulquiorra may have had every intention of extricating her from her current predicament, but he was going to end up killing her if this continued. For her own safety, she had to do something, fast.

"Th-this… is your way… of… paying me back?" Hoshi choked out, voice straining.

Slanted blue eyes flicked to the side to regard her.

Grimmjow's _reiatsu_ stabilized for a moment, though still at a highly uncomfortable level. He locked his gaze on Ulquiorra again.

The other espada raised his eyebrows ever so slightly at Grimmjow, the only indication that he had heard Hoshi's comment.

"Tch," Grimmjow spat out, spiritual pressure plunging.

He dropped his hand and jumped back from where Hoshi now fell, slumped, half-propped up on her elbows, heaving loudly to restore the oxygen flow to her body. Ulquiorra stood next to her impassively.

"You're both a waste of my time," Grimmjow said as he opened a _garganta_. "See ya."

With the portal closed and the blue-haired hollow gone, espada and shinigami remained motionless and silent a little longer, the only sounds coming from Hoshi's labored breathing.

"Hey, Ulquiorra," she ventured, once her heart had stopped racing. "Has he always been…?"

"Yes."

Hoshi nodded mildly, still rubbing at her neck. "I see." His grip had been so strong, she was surprised her bones hadn't snapped under the pressure. She would have dark bruises on her skin for weeks.

"Grimmjow is unstable, even for a former Adjuchas, and his nature is impulsive and unbiddable," Ulquiorra stated clinically, as though citing a textbook example. "I strongly advise that you watch your words and your tone with him in any future encounters."

"But I didn't even say anything!" Hoshi exclaimed, looking up at the pale, teal-lined face from where she still knelt in mid-air.

"It doesn't matter," Ulquiorra answered. "What matters is that he perceived it as either threatening or insulting. His impossibly short fuse grows even shorter if he thinks someone is talking down to him. The fact that he does absolutely nothing to warrant the respect he thinks he's owed is, sadly, beside the point."

"Hah," Hoshi said, tentatively standing up and regaining her balance. "Good to know."

She turned to Ulquiorra as she readjusted her robes.

He was giving her a strange look, his eyes lingering on her neck. If it had been more defined, she would have called it 'constipated.'

"I'm fine, I'm not hurt," Hoshi decided to announce to the world. The espada was, no doubt, unused to things such as inquiring about his companion's well-being; might as well relieve him the awkwardness of asking.

They both dropped down to the ground, Ulquiorra going to fetch his _gigai_ from where it lay flung against some trash cans, the shopping bag still in its hand.

"You know, you really shouldn't leave your _gigai_ lying around like that," Hoshi said, stretching her head to make sure, for the last time, that everything still worked properly. "A human will probably think you're dead or sick, and take you to the hospital or something. It can get quite complicated after that."

Ulquiorra considered her words, one leg already into his _gigai._ "Yes. You are right. I will be more careful in the future."

He finished stepping in and proceeded to wipe some dust off of his shoulders and knees. With that completed, he looked around the area they stood in, as though contemplating something. Hoshi raised her eyebrows at the hollow, trying to prompt him to speak.

After a somewhat reluctant moment, he indulged her.

"I was in a hurry to reach you and Grimmjow, and did not pay requisite attention to the path I took here." Ulquiorra checked the watch on his wrist. "And Orihime is still at school."

Hoshi simply waited, a slow smile starting to spread on her face. "And?"

"And so I cannot use her spiritual pressure as a guide to lead me back to the apartment," he stated, indicating with his tone that he was finished talking.

"And?" Hoshi prompted. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; there was absolutely no way she would let the espada wrangle his way out of it.

Ulquiorra sighed, closing his eyes. They were smaller in his _gigai_ and missing the trade-mark lines, but no less intense. "You are infuriating, Shinigami," he said quietly.

"Learning to communicate with others and to ask for help when needed is part of your education. I have full faith in your abilities to do so," she replied smugly. "So? Go on."

"So, I am asking for your assistance in finding my way back to the woman's apartment," he said, giving in a moment later, knowing full well that he would most likely regret it.

Hoshi doubled over with laughter. "I never thought the day would come when Ulquiorra Cifer, Cuatra Espada, would admit to being utterly lost," she managed to cough out from behind the hand raised to her mouth.

"Very amusing, Utagawa," Ulquiorra said quietly. This was the kind of moment when humans rolled their eyes in exasperation, was it not? "It is this exact kind of attitude that got you into trouble with Grimmjow in the first place. Are you going to help, or not?"

Her laughter subsided a little at the stern reminder.

"Of course," Hoshi said in a slightly more subdued tone. "It's this way." She signaled to him, and they both walked down one of the dirty alleys and towards the more well-kept districts of Karakura Town.

The morose look on Ulquiorra's face, however – made all the funnier, apparently, due to the _gigai's_ lack of his hollow features – kept prompting ill-concealed fits of giggles all the way back to Orihime's residence.

Ulquiorra decided to imitate his new companions and dramatically roll his eyes.

It was going to be a very long evening.


	6. Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

"You're leaving?" a loud female voice demanded from somewhere above and to her left. Legs much longer than her own had reached their destination first.

 _"Again?!"_ an equally aggressive female voice added, also from her left but much closer to her own level. Short hair swished abruptly as a head was thrust forward, as though that would get the point across more thoroughly.

Cyan Sung-Sun sighed, briefly closing her pale purple eyes.

The Tres Bestias stood atop one of the short flights of stairs that led from the Espada Pavilion out into the large expanse of sun-lit sand under the dome of Las Noches, ready to confront the lone male figure they had tracked there.

Harribel-sama had expressed concern at Grimmjow's frequent absences from Hueco Mundo as of late, particularly with regards to his continued use of a _garganta_ – it indicated that he was spending a good deal of his time somewhere other than where he should be; probably in the world of the living; completely _unsupervised_. Knowing the blue-haired arrancar, he was most likely messing around Karakura Town and trying to pick fights with the shinigami there. Harribel-sama had her hands full trying to solidify her power and authority as the new – and very reluctant – ruler of Hueco Mundo, and could not spare the time to deal with the Sexta Espada. She had asked the three of them to keep an eye on Grimmjow, as much as possible, and to do everything they could to deter him from aggravating their new, for the moment, black-robed allies.

They had accepted, obviously, at once and without question – but ultimately, as Harribel-sama herself knew very well, it was an impossible request. This particular espada listened to no one.

Even so, this was hardly the way to go about it, in Cyan's opinion. Demands, restrictions, and pressing authority on Grimmjow had never worked in the past, not even for Aizen.

 _All they will succeed in doing is to make this idiot even angrier than he normally is. And we are no match for him if he decides he wants a fight. Harribel-sama will have to intervene, which will expose how fragile the supposedly unified new espada front really is – and Hollow will start to openly challenge her rule again. Are these two nincompoops really that stupid?_ Cyan glanced at her fellow fracción from under slanted eyes.

She had just settled on what turns of phrase to use to attempt and smooth over the situation, when Grimmjow turned his head, almost lazily, away from the passageway he had opened to regard the three of them.

The low hum of the _garganta_ pulsing filled the brief silence.

"Yeah," Grimmjow said. The way he dragged out the syllable made clear what he thought of them and their interference. Cyan felt herself scrutinized by eyes that seemed heavy-lidded and bored; she knew them to be sharp and alert at all times, despite appearances. She hoped that the other two would not get baited into an argument. "Got a problem?"

"Yeah, we got a problem!" Apacci yelled immediately, mismatched eyes nearly bulging. If Cyan had any less restraint, she would have performed a most unladylike face-palm. How typical of the stupid quadruped to challenge him like that. "Harribel-sama told you to stay put!"

Grimmjow snorted. "I don't take orders from her," he stated, evidently done with this conversation. He turned around to face the _garganta_ once more. "Or anyone else."

He had barely put one boot-clad foot through the dark portal, reishi starting to pool around it to form a bright pathway, when a large, strong hand grabbed his right shoulder.

"Harribel-sama said –" Mila Rose began firmly.

"Your precious Harribel-sama can go suck it!" Grimmjow yelled, swinging around violently. His outstretched arm caught Mila Rose in her middle, and, with a loud crunch, the impact sent her flying backwards into Apacci.

"You piece of – !" the pair now lying sprawled on the stairs shouted, faces contorted in anger, only to be silenced by a long-sleeved arm thrust across their faces.

"We are the last of the Arrancar Army," Cyan reasoned. "There is no one else left. We are the only thing that stands between the chance at a better way of life and total chaos. You do understand this, do you not? That's why Harribel-sama wants us to stick together. _All_ of us."

Grimmjow was still looking at them through dangerously narrowed eyes. "You wanna stand in a fucking circle and hold hands, too?" he asked sarcastically.

Mila Rose swatted Cyan's arm out of the way. "Have you already forgotten what happened, idiot?!"

"Hah!" Apacci taunted, leaning over the larger woman still sitting on her, and using her as an arm-rest. "That Shinigami Substitute taking him down must have done a real number on his brains!"

 _"You've_ forgotten who pulled your ass out of that fucking stampede in the Fifth Tower, dipshit!" Grimmjow snarled, bright blue eyes opened wide.

Of course he hadn't forgotten what happened. He just didn't understand why they were all acting so damn surprised.

With the threat of the espada no longer keeping them away, more and more hollow – especially adjuchas – had flocked to Las Noches in a mad grab to fill the power vacuum left behind by Aizen. The palace had turned into a battlefield. Grimmjow had joined the others in beating them back, partly because he'd be damned if he missed out on a chance to let loose, and partly because he'd rather deal with Harribel in Las Noches than whole hordes of freakin' insects crawling all over the place. Definitely not because they were all 'friends' or whatever bullshit Harribel believed. She had somehow managed to fend the hollow off (with his help and the sudden reappearance of Nel's true form) and establish a shaky claim to the throne to stop further bloodshed. Nel had shrunk back into a brat after that – Grimmjow suspected her _reiatsu_ reserves must have run out – and he had gone back to stalking the hallways alone.

But this was normal behavior for hollow. It was hollow at their fucking simplest. What was not normal was what they'd had under Aizen. So what was the big deal with a few riots and fights? Yeah, it was fucking annoying, but if Harribel couldn't handle it then she should get her stupid ass off of that chair.

Grimmjow blinked, releasing Apacci from the piercing stare he had subjected her to. "I should've let you die," he finished resentfully.

"What they're trying to say, Grimmjow," Cyan took the opportunity to offer, now that he seemed a little calmer, "is that it's been difficult for all of us since the end of the War."

At least all the adjuchas had settled down, their blatant vying for power temporarily on hold, though the enforced 'peace' was strained to say the least. The petite arrancar could hardly believe how apathetic Grimmjow was being about the whole situation. He was acting as though none of this concerned him; as though he did not live here as well.

"So don't go messing up the power-balance again, stupid!" Apacci added. Cyan took a deep breath; she really was going to slap her.

Grimmjow's eyes flicked to the short, loud female. His body ceased all movement, save for a few wisps of his blue hair that were teased by the occasional breeze floating down from the large hole in the roof. And when Cyan returned her attention to the problematic arrancar, she saw that Grimmjow's face had drained of expression.

She froze. The only time she found the Sexta Espada frightening, _truly_ frightening – usually he was just loud and boorish; dangerous, yes, but one could see it coming from miles away and dodge accordingly – was when he went completely still like that. Her throat dried up and worry started coloring her eyes. _Did we go too far?_

"Listen here, you dumb chits, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," Grimmjow said in a subdued voice that was somehow even more intense than his customary yelling. "There is no 'us.' There has never been an 'us' and there never will be. We're hollow. Everyone is out for themselves. If you can't make it on your own, then you only deserve to die."

A tense silence filled the next several moments. The _garganta_ whirred on, heedlessly. When Apacci finally spoke, it was to make another sarcastic jab, but her words had lost any bite they previously boasted. "Wow, you must have been a real joy to your fracción."

"They were all cowards who didn't have what it takes," Grimmjow said, quickly, dismissively, eyes darting off to the side. "I'm better off on my own."

"Well, regardless of your charming beliefs," Cyan said, mouth hidden behind the long sleeve she raised to her face, "our authority in Las Noches is precarious at best; and the rest of Hueco Mundo is more lawless now than it was under Baraggan. The last thing anyone needs is to have our arrangement with the shinigami damaged."

"Hah! Your little arrangement's not gonna last," Grimmjow scoffed. "It's not the natural way of things. Shinigami and hollow have always been at each other's throats – you think some agreement that Harribel made with them is going to change thousands of years of instinct?"

Cyan frowned and pursed her lips, the pink dots on her cheek moving slightly with the tightening of her skin. Drawing a small breath, she made to talk.

Grimmjow cut her off. "Whatever," he said, turning his head away, short strands of hair bouncing around his forehead. "I don't care. You can stick to the false safety your stupid arrangement gives you. I'm gonna continue doing what I've always done. Survive. On my own. Don't blame me when you all end up gutted by their swords."

"Enough of this!" Mila Rose burst out, finally pushing herself up off of Apacci. She stormed back across the short distance to Grimmjow and jabbed a finger at his nose, making him go briefly cross-eyed. "Harribel-sama has given you an order and you will listen."

Grimmjow smirked. "Oh, yeah?" Cyan noted that his infuriating self-confidence had returned to replace the strange mood that had momentarily overtaken him. He tilted his head to the side. "Make me, ape-face."

Apacci snorted loudly, almost choking herself in the process. She pressed a hand to her mouth, tears starting to form in her round eyes.

Mila Rose turned on her, infuriated.

"That's the second time someone's called you a monkey!" Apacci burst out laughing, clutching her sides as she rocked back and forth on the stairs. "Must be true!"

"What did you say?! Take that back right now!" Mila Rose shouted, pouncing on Apacci and wrapping her hands around the other's throat in an attempt to throttle her. "I'll kill you!"

"My, my," Cyan said in a voice pitched higher than necessary, as the other two began their customary ritual of screaming and hair-pulling. "Perhaps the infighting hordes are not the only barbaric thing around here."

Mila Rose and Apacci stopped immediately, in mid-headlock with limbs tangled, and looked at her. "Sung-Sun, you bitch!"

All but forgotten, Grimmjow had quietly made his way into the still-open _garganta_ , its uneven lips closing solidly behind him. Turning those three on each other was too fucking easy to even be called child's play. He practically stalked through the passageway – his hands loosely in his pockets, but his shoulders high and tense – a dark expression taking over his face as he made his determined way towards Karakura Town.

Acting as a group, sticking together … did Harribel really think her way of doing things would resound with the hollow?

 _Tch_. He scuffed his feet on the pathway. _She's spent too much time around Aizen and shinigami, she's forgotten how to be a hollow. It's freakin' pathetic. Claiming the throne and making peace with those bastards – it's not going to last, any of it. She's a fool to even think it might. And when it all falls, I'll be there to take over. I'll show her – I'll show them all – what a real king is like!_

Grimmjow walked faster.

He wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and those sorry excuses for arrancar. It wasn't that he was worried they might follow after him or try to take him back by force; they didn't have the guts or the skills for that. It was just that their antics and beliefs and their unshakeable faith in 'Harribel-sama' were damn irritating. Because they were _annoying_. They were annoying, screeching, useless bitches whose voices grated on his nerves.

And not because, he convinced himself as he stepped out into the unsuspecting night sky of Karakura Town, their bickering brought back memories of the desert, a long time ago.

One quick survey of the town with his _pesquisa_ , and Grimmjow easily found the person he was looking for.

He took off at top speed in her direction, his sudden burst of _sonído_ all but leaving a cloud of smoke where the _garganta_ had closed. Perhaps he hoped that, if he went fast enough, he'd somehow manage to leave _their_ faces behind as well.

* * *

 

A lone figure walked down one of the empty nighttime streets of Karakura Town, the bright white of his clothes flashing rhythmically as he passed under the streetlights. The only sounds were those of his light footsteps and the rustling of the plastic bag he was carrying, which contained the spoils of his impromptu trip for some milk and crackers.

He watched through square-framed glasses as his breath left his mouth and briefly formed into a faint white wisp, before disappearing into the dark air. It was still cold, especially after sunset, despite it being spring.

"Geez," Uryū muttered.

It had already been two days, and yet he still couldn't believe it.

...

_Uryū ran up the stairs, one hand on the thin railing, and skidded to a stop outside apartment 403. Slightly out of breath, he knocked on the door._

_"Sorry I'm late," he said when Inoue's face appeared. "I had to take care of a couple of Hollow on the way."_

_"Don't worry about it!" Inoue smiled – a little nervously, he thought – as she ushered him in. "Kuchiki-san hasn't arrived yet, but we might as well start."_

Start… ? _Uryū thought Inoue sounded strangely serious for a simple dinner between friends. Frowning a little, he stepped past her and into the small living room._

_The first thing he noticed was Sado, standing expressionless on the right side of the room, with a firm grip on Arisawa. Their athletic friend was struggling to overpower him, presumably in order to claw her way to the lean figure on the other side of the room that she was glaring daggers at. Kurosaki stood next to them, scratching his head._

_The food that was laid out on the short table in the center of the room was untouched, completely forgotten by all._

_Uryū immediately jumped back and pulled out his quincy bow. The short black hair and bright green eyes, as well as the apathetic stare he had received upon entering, were unmistakable._ Ulquiorra?!

_Arisawa thrashed with even greater resolve once she saw his reaction. "See?! It is that bastard! Let go of me, Sado!"_

_"But… but it_ can't _be Ulquiorra," Kurosaki said, in a tone that suggested he had repeated this phrase several times already. "We saw him disappear."_

_"I don't care what happened, Ichigo," Arisawa growled, "but, right now, he's right there!"_

_"But if it's Ulquiorra, how can I see him?" Kurosaki insisted._

_Apparently, he was having some trouble accepting the Espada's evident return._

_The quincy briefly wondered whether it was because of the possible threat, yet again, to Inoue; they were in her apartment, after all. Or perhaps it was because Kurosaki didn't have powers this time around. Or… because of something else._

_None of them had felt any sort of victory in Ulquiorra's demise, and his death had brought no sense of relief or accomplishment, even though he had been the foremost obstacle in ensuring Inoue's safe return and Aizen's defeat. Most of Uryū's memories of that battle were clouded by a thin film of blood and pain, but even so, he remembered that the whole thing had felt empty. Sad, even. Regret – in different measure and for different reasons – had been expressed in some way from all parties involved._

_Feelings had gotten quite muddled that night on the roof, and Uryū was loathe to admit he had never actually sat down to sort them out. He had absolutely no doubt that Kurosaki had also forcibly shoved them aside, never thinking that he'd have to come to terms with them._

_"He is most likely in a_ gigai _," Uryū thought out loud, after having assessed the situation through narrowed eyes. "Am I right?" He directed the latter to Ulquiorra._

_"Yes," came the simple answer. No further explanation followed._

_"Okay, then where are his mask and hollow hole? And the lines on his face?" Kurosaki demanded._

_"Kurosaki!" Uryū snapped, momentarily lowering his bow to turn towards the former Shinigami Substitute. "Do you even know how a_ gigai _works?!"_

_Kurosaki threw his hands in the air, spiky orange hair bouncing. "I'm just saying this is freaking weird! I barely recognize him like that!"_

_Uryū's expression completely dropped and when he next spoke it was in a flat voice. "Shall I face-paint him for you?"_

_"Shut up!"_

_Sometime during the exchange, Inoue had closed the door of the apartment and had returned to stand quietly next to Ulquiorra. The sudden movement of her fidgeting hands drew the attention of both former Shinigami Substitute and quincy, and Uryū resumed scowling at Ulquiorra, training his bright arrow on him once more._

_Kurosaki – most likely due to Uryū's firm conviction of the espada's identity – finally seemed to have accepted Ulquiorra's existence. He probably itched for his Substitute Badge to tear out his spiritual body, and for the feel of Zangetsu in his hands. Drawing in a deep breath and expelling it slowly, Kurosaki dropped the banter and became serious, settling for an empty-handed battle stance and a fierce frown directed at the espada._

_A quiet sigh escaped the hollow's lips._

_"I warned you this would be pointless," Ulquiorra said to Inoue._

_"At least they're not attacking you," Inoue said, in a weak attempt at cheerfulness._

_"Not yet," Uryū quickly corrected her. "What is he doing here, Inoue?"_

_"Well," Inoue drew in a breath, puffed out her cheeks, and then blew it out. "Ulquiorra was revived by, uh, somehow." She looked to Ulquiorra, with slightly wide brown eyes, for what appeared to be assistance._

_Uryū raised an eyebrow. There was some silent communication going on between the two – perhaps deciding on how much to say?_ If that is the case… then… Inoue has known about him for some time!

_The quincy did not know what to make of that information, so he kept silent as the hollow continued Inoue's story for her._

_"The manner of my revival is irrelevant," Ulquiorra stated. "All that you need to know is that the shinigami are aware of my existence, and have been monitoring my presence here in the living world. Kisuke Urahara and Mayuri Kurotsuchi both have me under observation; the former provided me with this_ gigai _."_

_There was a brief silence as everyone tried to digest what the former espada had just said; even Arisawa gave up on her struggling and stood there quietly._

_"Oh," Kurosaki finally said, seeming to relax a little. "Well, if those two are keeping tabs on you, I guess –"_

_"Kurosaki!" Uryū snapped again. "Don't let your guard down that easily! And you," he turned on the hollow. "That didn't answer my question. What are you doing here, with Inoue?"_

_"Well, he did need a place to stay, Ishida-kun," Inoue answered instead, hesitantly. "While he's in this world."_

_"He's staying here?!" Uryū found his question being echoed, word for word, by Kurosaki's deeper voice._

_"Why?" Sado spoke up for the first time since he had walked in. First to arrive, he had found the hollow setting the table for dinner; he had chosen to remain silent until reinforcements came in the form of Ichigo and Ishida._

_Ulquiorra turned his expressionless eyes on him. "I developed a slight interest in humans and their affairs before I died and have now chosen to pursue it."_

_"What about Hueco Mundo? You don't want to go back to your own world?" Uryū frowned. Why would a hollow want to stay here? There were shinigami all over the place. And according to Urahara's reports, Harribel would probably be grateful for any reliable assistance in Las Noches. Not to mention, the low density of spirit particles here made it difficult for shinigami, and even quincy, to breathe at times; for a high-level arrancar, it must be almost painful._

_"Not for the moment," Ulquiorra replied. "I have nothing urgent vying for my attention there."_

_Dark blue eyes widened a fraction in silent shock, as Uryū heard what Ulquiorra_ wasn't _saying: the hollow had nowhere to go._

Don't tell me, _the white-clad teenager thought, unconsciously letting his arms droop a little._ With Aizen gone, whatever purpose he thought he had until now is also gone… he's completely lost! _Uryū allowed his face to soften a bit, switching his gaze from Ulquiorra to his orange-haired friend._ It's no wonder she took him in.

_A hint of a smile appeared around Uryū's lips and eyes. Inoue really was too kind sometimes. It was a trait they had all sought to moderate, at one point or another, until she had shown them that it didn't mean a lack of strength or a need for protection more than they would give anyone else. No one had tried since, and they had all come to accept it as an integral part of Inoue's character. Uryū, for one, would have her no other way._

_Kurosaki, of course, demonstrated that he was incapable of reading between the lines. "So, you're not an espada anymore?" he asked bluntly._

_"I will always be an espada, Ichigo Kurosaki," Ulquiorra stated. Perhaps it was the_ gigai _, but Uryū could swear he had detected mild offense on the hollow's face and in his voice. "I am, however, not a threat to you. Currently. I have no desire in pursuing any conflict with shinigami or humans."_

_"You expect us to believe that you're one of the good guys now?" Arisawa demanded from where she hung limp over Sado's arms._

_"Of course not," Ulquiorra replied. "What a ridiculous notion. It simply happens that my interests for now align with yours. If the situation changes, be assured, I will give you fair warning."_

_"Oh, don't listen to him," Inoue said with a light laugh, one white-stockinged leg coming to rub behind the other._

_She was visibly relieved that none of them had attacked the hollow on the spot. Uryū hadn't missed the fact that her hands had been hovering near her hairpins on her jacket's collar the whole time, nor that she had positioned herself in such a way that she'd be able to raise her shield immediately if required._

_"Ulquiorra would rather eat my cooking than let you guys think that he's any less intimidating than he used to be!" She raised one hand to pat the top of the espada's head. Ulquiorra closed his eyes and, with great patience, caught her wrist and removed the offending limb from his personal space. He gave Inoue a long look, to which she merely responded by sticking her tongue out at him._

_Inoue's obvious level of comfort with the hollow set everyone else a little bit more at ease, a fact on which she pounced eagerly. "Oh, I almost forgot!" She slapped her forehead. "Dinner! I didn't touch_ any _of it, Ulquiorra did all the cooking, so have as much as you want!"_

That's the third time, _Uryū noted, as the small group turned to regard the plates set before them. The third time she had referred to the hollow as 'Ulquiorra,' with no suffixes attaches. For a person like Inoue, who was careful to address everyone – even her oldest childhood friends – with the proper honorifics, to be so remiss was entirely out of character. He tucked away this curiosity in a corner of his mind, to be examined later._

_Four pairs of eyes carefully scrutinized the food for any tell-tale signs of 'creative' cooking, but there was nothing that looked even marginally suspicious. In fact, the smells, which everyone had overlooked until now, were mouth-watering. Uryū found it hard to believe that a hollow had prepared these._

_"You can cook, Ulquiorra?" Kurosaki asked surprised. He lowered himself on one of the seats. "Well, we might as well eat, since that's all settled. Thank you for the food."_

_"Kurosaki!" Uryū shouted at him, for the third time that evening._

_The former Shinigami Substitute paused with loaded chopsticks in front of his mouth. "What is it now?" he asked impatiently._

_"Nothing is settled!" Uryū practically bounced up and down. He pointed a finger at Ulquiorra. "Soul Society knew about him? They've been observing him? Why? For how long? When were they going to tell us?!"_

_Kurosaki waved him off and stuck the clump of food in his mouth. "I lost my powers," he spoke through the food, shrugging. He swallowed. "And you're a quincy, so…"_

_"And we're chopped liver," Arisawa mumbled. Sado quietly nodded._

_"Don't give me that!" Uryū replied, pushing his glasses up his face; his earlier frantic movements had dislodged them slightly. "Urahara could have said something! He gave him a_ gigai _! Why are you so unconcerned about all this?!"_

_Kurosaki set his food down with a sigh and suddenly Uryū found himself at the receiving end of a soulful brown-eyed stare._

_"I'm not a Shinigami Substitute anymore," the orange-haired teenager said quietly. "Their business is none of mine. They have no obligation to keep me informed about anything." Kurosaki turned his gaze down to the plate in front of him, one hand reflexively clenching into a fist. "There's nothing I can do."_

_Three sets of eyes stared at Uryū accusingly._

_The quincy made an incoherent sound and jolted backwards at the realization. He had brought up the one topic that they had all wordlessly decided, months ago, was completely off-limits. He hadn't meant to, honestly. He had just wanted Kurosaki to take a serious matter… well, seriously!_

_Uryū searched for something to say that would salvage the situation._

_Luckily, Inoue took over for him, ushering them all towards the table while rambling on about the most memorable experiences Ulquiorra had had thus far in the living world. Curiosity and the unexpected opportunity to possibly have fun at the espada's expense won over apprehension, and even Kurosaki seemed to snap out of his depressive episode._

_With a small sigh, Uryū put his bow away and joined everyone else._

_Amidst the laughter from the girls, the patient silence from Ulquiorra, and the sympathetic looks directed at the espada from Sado, he noticed that he wasn't the only one who realized that Kuchiki had never showed up._

_..._

Uryū pushed his glasses up his nose, lenses flashing under the streetlights, as he continued to dwell on the event.

Inoue had continued coming to school and working at her part-time job as usual, and she had been acting perfectly normal, too. Well, Uryū granted that 'normal' was a slightly subjective concept where Inoue was concerned. But the quincy had made it a point, regardless, to pass her apartment every day on his way about the town, just to check on her spiritual pressure and that of her new roommate. There had been nothing out of the ordinary.

So far.

 _That thrice-damned shopkeeper!_ Neither Ulquiorra nor Inoue had given any of them what he considered a satisfactory explanation of, one, just how the hollow had returned to life, and two, why Soul Society was involved with him in the first place. Uryū had formed a list of culprits in his mind, however, and Urahara was at the very top. A certain very shady scientist ranked a close second.

_Of all times for this to be happening, too._

Uryū sighed again, turning his head to look up at the stars. They twinkled almost mockingly, the quiet and stillness of the town at night providing a sharp contrast to his own thoughts, racing and confused.

So much for 'keeping his distance.' All his meticulous plans, all the time spent on figuring out the details, all the carefully designed timing and the training with Ryūken – wasted. It had been a far more difficult decision than he had ever imagined, but Uryū had determined that it was for the best; he missed them already, but at least this way, his friends wouldn't be as affected – hopefully – by his supposed betrayal when the time came.

And then bloody Ulquiorra had shown up! Uryū would have to get involved, there was no getting around it, both out of legitimate worry for his friends' safety and because any uncharacteristic behavior on his part would only raise their suspicions.

Not even half a year ago, the Cuatra Espada had been one of their foremost concerns. It was almost laughable that now, as a potential threat, the hollow had taken a definite backseat in lieu of a certain other group.

 _I'll have to be careful,_ Uryū resolved, as he navigated several back alleys. _They have already started moving in Hueco Mundo to gather arrancar – I'm certain they would be all too happy to get their hands on an espada. I can't let that happen._

He had made intricate predictions – with Ryūken, sitting in his hospital office one afternoon – of how everyone of their acquaintance would react once things went into full swing. And they had developed their plans accordingly.

Ulquiorra, however, was an unknown entity. Soul Society appeared to tolerate his existence, so would they try to use him against the quincy? Would he agree? How would he, a former espada, react to Hueco Mundo being overthrown?

"Aaaah!" Uryū complained, shaking his head. There was just too much he couldn't foresee, and it was giving him a headache. Taking a deep breath, and partly choking on the chill air, he forced his mind to slow down and think rationally.

It was mid-April. Haschwalth had said to plan on early June of the following year. He still had some time to try and figure this whole mess out.

 _No one said it was going to be easy,_ the little voice in his head supplied, as Uryū finally reached his house. At some point during the past year, it had gone from sounding like Ryūken to mimicking a particularly distasteful scientist.

Uryū got his keys out and unlocked the door, but stopped short just before pushing it open – there was a hollow around, a few streets over. He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. The light display showed no new calls or messages. Well, if Urahara hadn't contacted him, then he'd let the shinigami on duty deal with it.

This quincy had enough on his plate already.

* * *

 

Hoshi brought her sword straight down over her head, cutting the hollow in half.

That done, its body now disintegrating in a whirl of black particles, she jumped back from where she had fought in mid-air to land atop a telephone pole.

"Not bad, Shinigami."

Hoshi grit her teeth and inhaled deeply, as she slowly sheathed her sword.

She had sensed his _reiatsu_ a while back, near the river. The dark surface reflecting all the town's lights had caught her eye, and Hoshi had lingered there, face raised to the soft breeze, drinking in the night and its calm. She hadn't said anything, hoping he'd either continue following her in silence or, preferably, go away. Clearly, either case had been too much to hope for.

"Glad you enjoyed the show," Hoshi said, turning to face him. She kept both hands on her zanpakutō,one still wrapped around the handle and the other holding the sheath at her hip, ready to throw it back at a moment's notice. The _habaki_ was left exposed, with a sliver of the blade itself showing; rude and aggressive, but she wasn't going to take any chances, and etiquette could go hang for the moment.

He was standing on a nearby roof, hands in pockets and head tilted slightly back and to the side. The moon was behind him and its light shone brightly through the hole in his abdomen, making for one of the strangest pictures the shinigami had ever seen.

"Are you sure you absolutely have nothing better to do?" she asked.

Grimmjow grinned, eyes flicking back to her face from where they had been drawn to her left hip. He'd noticed that she hadn't sheathed all the way. "Positive. I owe you. You're not getting out of payback that easy."

"Still on about that?" Hoshi sighed, reluctantly jumping over to join him on the rooftop. No one else seemed to be around, but still – she didn't want to hold a loud conversation with an espada where anyone could hear them. The last thing she needed was for another shinigami (or a visored, or Ishida, or Inoue, or Urahara – this town was rife with problematic people) to witness the familiarity with which he addressed her. Just thinking about all the explaining she'd have to do back in Soul Society was enough to make her dizzy. "I told you: _I – don't – care._ "

"You on patrol?" Grimmjow asked, ignoring her statement completely, and looked around the area as though evaluating it.

Hoshi finally let her right hand drop from the handle of her zanpakutō. Her left thumb, however, she kept firmly pressed to the _tsuba_ , ready to push out the already loose sword if needed. "What gave it away?" she replied flatly.

Grimmjow's grin grew wider. "Good. I'll join you."

He walked straight past her, body still loose and attitude laidback, following the course she'd set for herself before that hollow had interrupted.

 _What?!_ Hoshi stood there, dumbfounded. He must be joking! Had she heard him right?

"Oi! You coming?" Grimmjow called back over his shoulder at her. He was already two rooftops further along.

Hoshi spun around. _Bastard, it's my damn patrol!_ She sprinted and, jumping over the buildings, quickly caught up to him.

"Wait." The urge to grab an arm and pull him around was strong, but Hoshi kept her hands to herself.

"What?" Grimmjow asked impatiently, stopping to look down at her.

"You're a hollow."

"No shit," he deadpanned. He leaned over her, his face much closer than necessary. "You've got some sharp skills, Shinigami."

"You bastard," Hoshi muttered under her breath. Clenching her fists, she took a moment to close her eyes and regain her composure. "No, what I meant was – I'm a shinigami. On patrol _for_ hollow. And… and you – you don't see anything wrong with joining in on it?"

"No." Grimmjow gave her a look that plainly told her he thought she was crazy. "Hollow hunt each other all the time. It's the same thing."

He resumed walking, his long strides making his leisurely pace faster than it appeared.

Hoshi trotted after him, soft side-bangs bouncing around her cheeks. "Uh, not exactly!"

"Close enough," he said dismissively, shrugging to indicate that the matter was closed.

Finally keeping up with him, she appraised him out of the corner of her eye.

The espada didn't appear inclined towards any more conversation, but he showed no signs of leaving, either. Not wanting to risk another incident like last time, Hoshi, with a very heavy heart, resigned herself to having unwanted company for the rest of her patrol. Dawn could not come soon enough.

Shinigami and arrancar moved around Karakura Town in awkward silence.

Up until now, Hoshi could count the number of times she had actually wished for hollow to appear in front of her on one hand; after tonight, she'd need more than two. Normally, she'd be perfectly happy to not see a single hollow on patrol: less to clean up, less to write up. But what wouldn't she give right now for something, _anything_ , to happen, just to give her something to do other than steal glances at the arrancar walking by her side and jump every time her eyes caught a sudden movement from his direction.

Tonight, naturally, nothing was showing up.

It seemed like no hollow was interested in the human town, for once. Other than the one walking next to her, of course. Hoshi chanced another look at him. He looked bored, the small frown between his brows present as always. She decided it must be a favorite expression of his.

With nothing to claim her attention, and with the espada being uncharacteristically quiet, the shinigami allowed herself to muse on what would happen if she did include Grimmjow in her next report. How would they all take it, that she had been 'assisted' on her patrols by a former espada? Shūhei would probably dive for pen and paper, shouting excitedly about the next _Seireitei Communication's_ special issue. Next, she pictured Renji's reaction: loud, sputtering, tattooed eyebrows shooting up, possibly shaking her by the shoulders. Then she pictured Captain Kuchiki's.

Hoshi snorted, a too-late attempt to cover up a giggle.

Grimmjow immediately looked at her. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Hoshi said quickly, as innocently as she could. She saw his eyes narrow in calculation; he probably thought she was laughing at him. And seeing how well he'd taken to teasing last time, she decided she'd better clarify while she could. "I was just thinking about how my captain would react if I told him an espada helped out on patrols. I wasn't laughing at you," she added, just for good measure.

The arrancar grumbled out a sound. "Don't see what's so funny about that."

Another half-snort, softer this time. "You don't know my captain."

The uncomfortable silence resumed, and Hoshi shot Grimmjow another quick glance from under dark eyelashes. The idea had struck her in the park, as they had moved around the trees and across the dark expanse of grass, that she should perhaps address what happened last time they had met, just to smooth things over with him and make sure he wasn't still out for her blood.

The opportunity to bring it up hadn't presented itself, until now. Might as well get it over with.

"And since we're kind of on this topic," Hoshi began quietly, "I – about the other day, I didn't mean to insult you. I was only teasing. I do that; all the time, to everyone. You can ask Ulquiorra, even he's subjected to it." She scrunched her face up in thought. "Actually, I think he bears the brunt of it these days."

Grimmjow snorted. "Whatever." He continued walking, perhaps a little faster than before, the one word he'd carelessly flung at her his only form of acknowledgment.

Hoshi stopped in her tracks, her knuckles white where she was still gripping her _saya_. "What the hell is your problem?"

His footsteps also stopped, and blue eyes turned to regard her in irritation. As though she was bothering him.

She felt her anger (normally slow to move and kept under a tight lid) start to boil in her stomach, and rise through her body to spew out of her mouth. "Here I am, apologizing to you – for something that I shouldn't be apologizing for in the first place, because I didn't do _anything_ that merits an apology – and you can't be assed to dignify it with a proper response?"

Grimmjow walked up to her and brought his face down near hers, each motion careful and restrained, as if to showcase the amount of force he was capable of but was choosing to hold back. "You're a shinigami." His voice had lost whatever lightness it might have held until this point.

"So?" Hoshi demanded, slightly breathless and completely confused. She pulled her head as far back from him as she could without giving ground. Her right hand, of its own volition, darted to the hilt of her zanpakutō.

"So why the fuck would a shinigami apologize to a hollow?" Grimmjow growled out. His tone left no room for argument. Clearly – as far as he was concerned – they wouldn't.

All the same, Hoshi shook her head. "I'm not apologizing as a shinigami," she explained slowly. "I'm apologizing as a person; as _me_."

"Doesn't fucking matter," he stated, pulling himself back out of her space. Green-lined eyes continued to stare her down. "You're still a shinigami. You can never change that."

If there was one thing Hoshi had always been good at, it was reading spiritual pressure. With only a little effort, she could identify race, mental condition, physical ability and health, emotional state, and signature (if she had met the person in question before). No one in the Gotei Thirteen that ranked lieutenant and below came close. Shūhei and Renji both claimed that she even surpassed several captains, a comment that she always brushed off, blushing furiously (though she had reluctantly granted that they might be right in regards to the Eleventh Division's captain).

Impressive though it may be, she had always found this ability slightly useless – when compared to, say, _zanjutsu_ – except for use in scouting missions and the like. Right now, however, it was screaming to Hoshi that this particular situation was treading dangerously close to the note her last encounter with Grimmjow had ended on.

Time to diffuse it, even though she hated backing down from an argument when she knew she was in the right. He'd probably take it as her tucking her tail between her legs, too, which was absolutely infuriating. But the last thing she wanted was Ulquiorra – or even worse, Urahara or another shinigami – coming out here in the dead of night for another last-minute rescue.

"Have you always been this sour, or is it a recent development?" Quirking her head to one side, she forced her voice to lighten up and, fighting against all her instincts, made her right hand leave her sword and fall back down to her side. She was embarrassed to note that it was shaking slightly.

Grimmjow, eyes blinking wide and lips parting slightly, was momentarily thrown off.

Hoshi took the proffered opening and ran with it, changing subjects on him before he could react.

"I had heard, from Ichigo and the others, that the Sexta Espada always laughed maniacally and wore a psychotic grin. I haven't really seen evidence of either." She gave a small shrug. "I can only assume something's changed."

He stared at her a moment longer, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yeah, I dunno," Grimmjow finally said. "Maybe it's because _we lost the fucking war_." Despite the sarcasm in his voice, Hoshi noticed that his muscles relaxed and the tension left his shoulders.

The espada let out a 'tch' and scuffed the ground with one foot, before turning and starting to walk again.

Hoshi breathed out in relief, her heart reacquiring its regular pace. That had been way too close.

"Oh, right," she said sheepishly as she caught up with him. "That would sober anyone up." The shinigami looked up at her hollow companion. His face was closed off, but his murderous aura seemed to have dissipated. She decided she'd risk continuing the conversation; perhaps try to find a more pleasant topic. "At the very least, you must be glad to be rid of Aizen."

Grimmjow regarded her out of the corner of his eyes, the long shadow cast by a nearby building hiding his expression. "What makes you say that?"

Hoshi looked at him in surprise. "Well, I… from what I saw, I got the impression that not everyone in his army followed him willingly."

The arrancar let out a sharp laugh, short blue hair swinging back as he lifted his face.

Hoshi practically jumped. _To be fair, I did just tell him that he didn't laugh as much as his reputation claimed_. It was every bit as bone-chilling as she had imagined.

"You're wrong, Shinigami," Grimmjow said with a wide grin. "We all had the choice to follow Aizen or not. It was a piss-poor choice, but a choice nonetheless."

He was arguing with her. Again. This man was apparently allergic to agreeable conversation. The topic at hand had the potential to turn out very, very badly for her, but, despite herself, Hoshi found she was morbidly curious about what had made the espada – all of them powerful hollow in their own right – follow a megalomaniac shinigami.

"How so?" she asked.

Grimmjow shrugged.

"Starrk wanted comrades or some shit like that; something about always killing everyone who couldn't withstand his _reiatsu_ ," he said, sounding bored. Even so, Hoshi couldn't believe he was actually humoring her. "Harribel was handed some bullshit promise about ending the fighting between hollow, and the stubborn old fart just didn't want to let go of his 'kingdom.'" He paused, briefly stopping to frown down at his feet. "Ulquiorra – fuck if I know. That bastard has no thoughts or motives of his own," he said quietly. "Pah, he probably couldn't care enough to say no."

"Oh, I don't know that I would say that," Hoshi volunteered. "He's been doing quite well for himself lately, out on his own."

"No." Grimmjow's voice was firm. "Don't kid yourself, Shinigami. He's only with the princess because he needs someone to provide him with a purpose. With Aizen gone, he just fucking latched on to the next most stable, familiar thing."

All the time he had been talking, Hoshi studied Grimmjow. Carefully.

He was, she was shocked to realize, a great deal sharper than she had given him credit for. Ill-mannered and battle-prone, she had believed him to be a hollow equivalent of Squad Eleven and had judged his intellect accordingly. A mistake. Hearing him analyze the aloof Cuatra Espada so accurately (though, she still silently maintained, there was more to Ulquiorra's relationship with Inoue than that), it was a mistake she would not be repeating from here on out.

Hoshi also noticed that Grimmjow had only mentioned espada ranked above him, likely indicating that he had considered them worthy of his attention. She didn't miss the fact that Ulquiorra made the cut.

"What was your reason for following Aizen?" she asked, taking the conversation away from the Cuatra Espada's new lifestyle choices and back into safer waters. But she _was_ genuinely curious.

"Power." Grimmjow didn't even hesitate in answering.

"Power," Hoshi repeated slowly. She waited for him to continue; surely there was more to it than that. When it became clear that he didn't have anything further to add, she couldn't stop herself from verbalizing her puzzlement. "Just… power? That's it?"

It sounded so plain, so (dare she say it?) _hollow_. Especially after everything he had said about the other espada. Oh, he'd certainly tried to make their motives sound stupid and casual, but unfortunately for him, Hoshi was an expert at reading between the lines.

"I don't expect a shinigami to understand."

There was that hostility again. She was beginning to see a pattern to his moods. _It's kind of terrifying that I've spent enough time with him already to be able to do so._ Either that, or parts of him were supremely easy to read. Hoshi fervently hoped it was the latter.

"Maybe I would if you elaborated a little," she said as a peace-offering. She was not going to get drawn into another argument over the shinigami-hollow dichotomy.

Grimmjow slowly came to a stop. "There's nothing to explain," he said to the cold night air in front of him. He let his head roll to the right, and regarded her lazily over one shoulder. "Power is power. You either have it or you don't. End of fucking story."

He continued on his way, leaving Hoshi to study his back in the gray light of early morning.

Between his choice of words and his delivery, she had easily gathered that it was very far from being the end of _any_ story. Clearly, there were things driving this arrancar other than just a simple lust for power; things he had chosen to lump together under the cover of that one word. Grimmjow seemed determined to make himself out to be a simple-minded jerk, however, and the shinigami had absolutely no desire to push her luck. It was obviously a touchy topic.

But if that was what he thought passed off as convincing, then she had some bad news for him. His acting skills were dismal. If it had been someone else – someone who couldn't tear her throat out in the blink of an eye or rip her body apart with the full force of his spiritual pressure – she may have even found it adorable.

Hoshi briefly wondered, given his well-known attitude problems and his apparent inability to mask his thoughts even the tiniest bit, how the hell he had survived under Aizen with all his limbs intact.

That was a question for another day, however, and she jogged after him for the third time that night.

Once having reached his shoulder, Hoshi abruptly changed the direction in which they were walking, simply for the sake of regaining some semblance of control over her own assignment.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, but, surprisingly, said nothing. He fell into pace next to her with no objections, and they walked in silence (a marginally less awkward silence than before) until the sun rose from behind the mountains surrounding Karakura Town.

"Well, that's it," Hoshi announced, stretching one arm over her head and failing to stifle a yawn. She was exhausted, despite the fact that virtually nothing had happened on her rounds, and in desperate need of a nap. "End of patrol."

Grimmjow stood near her on the roof of the Karakura Hospital, watching the dawn with a small frown.

Pale orange was starting to spread across the young blue of the sky, and the light that now covered the whole town had softened the espada's edges. Only his eyes remained hard, unblinking, staring at the horizon as though assessing an enemy. It was quite likely, Hoshi realized with a start, that he had never seen a sunrise before.

He also showed no sign of leaving.

She cleared her throat and gave the arrancar a very pointed look. "Unless you're going to walk me home, too?"

"Tch." Grimmjow turned his head away from her sullenly. "That was freakin' lame. I could've gotten more action if I'd stayed in Hueco Mundo."

Hoshi narrowed her eyes at him. He had ruined a perfectly peaceful night and now he was complaining? He was unbelievable. "No one asked you to come."

"Yeah, yeah." Grimmjow brushed her off as he opened a _garganta_ with one point of his finger. "See ya around, Shinigami."

"I can't wait," Hoshi intoned flatly. She kept her eyes on him as he stepped into the passageway with a slight swagger, waiting for it to close behind him so that she could finally have some peace.

"And I'll bring some fun along with me next time, too." He flashed her a wide grin over his shoulder, sharp canines and all, before disappearing completely.

"You asshole! Don't you dare!" Hoshi shouted at the empty air in front of her, eyes searching uselessly for an indication that he had heard her.

After several long moments, she accepted reality.

With a loud sigh, she let her shoulders slump and her head hang down. She wasn't being paid nearly enough for this.

Hell, she hadn't wanted to come to the living world in the first place! Hoshi had been completely onboard with the Captain-Commander's decree to increase security in Karakura Town until three conditions were met: a suitable, permanent replacement for Kurumadani; proof that Harribel had the hollow in Hueco Mundo firmly under her control; and a way to fill the embarrassingly large hole left by Ichigo losing his powers. That said, she hadn't expected her opinion on the matter – they had been discussing it with Renji and Ikkaku over noodles and soup one evening – to land her an actual assignment.

In all honesty, though, her patrol could have gone worse. Much worse. Fist-through-the-stomach worse, even.

Rubbing her temples and making her slow way back to the warehouse, Hoshi resolved to look on the bright side. At least she had survived another encounter with the blue-haired Sexta Espada. And without tripping the wire to activate his full on rage mode, too.

She would consider this a victory.


	7. A Storm Is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

It was simultaneously incredible and frightening, Hoshi had determined one day while walking under brilliant, clear Karakura skies, what a person could come to get used to given enough exposure.

Her hands never strayed far from the sword at her side and her feet never quite carried her full weight on the ground, but, all the same, the shinigami in question found that her mouth was less dry and her pulse less erratic with each passing day. The initial urge to duck and run for Hachigen's barrier was slowly becoming replaced with annoyance and the strong desire to slap a long piece of duct tape over a certain espada's mouth.

Not that she would ever act in such a manner – Hoshi was still far too wary of him for that, and had no doubt that any sort of breach of personal space, no matter how minimal, would be immediately interpreted as an attack. But a girl could dream.

The fact remained, however, that she was growing increasingly confident in his presence – something she attributed to her quick grasp of how to navigate around him. It took only a few conversations to figure out what his buttons were, how much damage each one did and how to avoid them altogether; and, to her complete surprise, he proved ridiculously easy to distract.

Yet Hoshi firmly tugged herself away from the pitfall of thinking that Grimmjow was an uncomplicated kind of guy, no matter what kind of image he wanted to project. He may have been singularly incapable of hiding what he was thinking and feeling, but he wasn't _simple._ The sharpness his eyes had acquired when he had given her his (unasked for) opinion on what made the Cuatra Espada tick had ensured that she would never assume things about him again. As long as she didn't forget herself and lapse into biting sarcasm or let herself give in to his constant baiting, Hoshi could be reasonable sure that she was relatively safe from any sudden, life-threatening outbursts.

Her growing dexterity at handling Grimmjow's prickly presence was a slightly alarming but inevitable development, the shinigami sadly conceded to herself. After all, most of her patrols over the course of the past three weeks had been graced by his charming company.

Whenever Hoshi questioned him about it, the hollow violently insisted that the only reason he was following her around was in order to pay off his debt as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Each time she would roll her eyes, sending peach-colored hair strands flying across her face… once his back was safely turned, of course.

Who did he think he was fooling? While that certainly may have been his true purpose at the beginning, it was painfully clear that now it was simply a matter of his having found a new sport. It was called 'pestering this _particular_ shinigami at all possible times,' and it was a favorite. And, unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything half as amusing back in Hueco Mundo ( _Where he actually belongs,_ she thought with gritted teeth) to vie for his attention.

Hoshi found herself making absurd half-wishes that, somehow, magically, the _garganta_ would just stop working.

And for a very short while, the universe seemed to have taken pity on her – the blue-haired menace had been conspicuously absent as she made her usual rounds about the human town, one Friday morning.

Curious, and more than a little concerning, especially as she could feel a faint trace of his _reiatsu_ dogging her steps from a distance. Hoshi tried to allay her worries with logical arguments: perhaps he finally grew bored; or perhaps Harribel finally noticed his frequent forays to the living world and clamped down on him, in fear that it might upset the tentative peace between Soul Society and Hueco Mundo.

A far more likely reason presented itself that very afternoon, as Hoshi phased through the warehouse's barrier at the end of her shift and was greeted by exceedingly loud noise levels and several familiar faces.

The next group of shinigami in charge of patrolling Karakura Town had arrived, a little earlier than expected.

They weren't supposed to take over for Hoshi and the other three on duty until tomorrow night, but, according to Yumichika (who was perusing human fashion magazines on the couch in the main common room), they wanted to settle in a bit before jumping straight into business. Ikkaku was perched on the back of the couch, trying to mediate (a prominent vein pulsed on his forehead every time Mashiro spoke), while the bright green-haired visored grasped Shūhei's hand with bone-breaking force and energetically whisked him off before he could finish saying hello to Hoshi, yelling something about co-lieutenant bonding time.

A shout and multiple crashes sounded from the direction the two officers of the Ninth Division had disappeared in: namely, the new exercise room that now housed the Super Hiyori Walker. More shouting and the tell-tale sound of slippers slapping against bare skin followed.

Hoshi excused herself from the lively antics with an exasperated half-smile on her face and went to the kitchen to get her dinner, before retreating to the (relatively) peaceful sanctuary of her temporary room.

As she made her slow way up the stairs, eyes slightly out of focus, her hand paused on its journey along the low staircase railing.

_He's probably staying away because of the sudden influx of shinigami_.

Her fingers drummed on the cold metal. Grimmjow wasn't the type to be intimidated by any of them, or by their numbers. No, he was most likely simply assessing the situation before resuming his favorite pastime.

He'd be back on her case any moment now.

She let out an uncharacteristically loud sigh as she reached her room, drawing the attention of a white-haired head coming down the stairs at the end of the landing. _Hitsugaya?_ She frowned a little, in surprise. Hoshi didn't remember him being on the roster for living world rotation.

Closing the door behind her and preparing to thoroughly enjoy her last free evening in the living world with a movie, the incredible human food called 'pizza' and some well-earned bloody quiet, she briefly wondered why the Tenth Division's captain was dressed in a soccer team uniform.

* * *

Saturday – the last day of Hoshi's sojourn in the living world – dawned grey and overcast.

With the promise of a heavy downpour later that morning, any shinigami company that Hoshi may have had along on her final patrol quickly abandoned her in favor of plans that revolved strictly around hot drinks and staying indoors. The visored, having inhabited the living world for such a long time, had all the latest in human entertainment systems and, as such, shinigami that stayed at the warehouse for any length of time promptly became addicted to the electronic hobby known as videogames.

Judging from the noise that was currently filtering up from below into the kitchen, it sounded like Ikkaku was fighting a losing battle against what he apparently deemed were 'stupid controls!' His close friend's attempt at calm was completely drowned out by an enraged yell: 'I don't fucking care! If this was a real battle, I'd have won already!'

Hoshi chuckled under her breath. There was a high chance that there would be no gaming console to return to later if no one stepped in soon.

Wanting nothing more than to join everyone else lounging around in the comfort of the brand new T.V. room, she nevertheless tied her hair up, grumpily grabbed one last piece of toast from the kitchen table, stuffed it in her mouth, and made for the large garage door.

The moment Hoshi stepped outside of the barrier, she felt, as expected – he was so _predictable_ – the faint trace of Grimmjow's spiritual pressure.

Her initial relief at some reprieve from his overpowering presence the previous day had suffered a speedy death, once she had realized that (even when absent!) the espada still had her rife with trepidation, wasting her precious time and thoughts on him. The more she had dwelled on it, the angrier she had become, turning it all over and over in her head – his insufferable attitude and his cocky smirks, his inability to keep his voice below yelling levels and the way he spoke to her; everything about him was so _annoying_ – until she had gone to bed last night almost fuming.

So, it was with barely concealed irritation that Hoshi finally addressed him, several streets down from the warehouse, near the train tracks. "Are you going to come out, or continue acting like a creepy stalker?"

One impossibly fast burst of speed later, the blue-haired arrancar materialized beside her.

In an infuriatingly familiar gesture that far overstepped the bounds of even his usual disregard for her personal space, he casually half-draped one arm across her shoulders, his hand coming to roughly grip the back of her head.

"Pretty good, Shinigami," Grimmjow grinned. "You've got some decent sensing abilities."

Hoshi – somewhere between her building frustration with him and her general dislike of being touched by _anyone_ – forgot her earlier promise to herself to never infringe on _his_ personal space, and attempted to forcibly shove him off. Thankfully, Grimmjow appeared to be far too entertained by the fact that she had to use all of her body weight to get him to budge even a fraction to consider cutting her hands off.

He directed the most maddeningly smug smirk at her.

"What are you talking about?" she grunted out, as she continued pushing against him. What the hell made him think that he could just walk up and manhandle her like this?! "I've been sensing you since yesterday morning outside that pastry shop."

Grimmjow retracted his limbs almost as fast as he had placed them on her.

Hoshi, suddenly finding herself fighting against thin air, tripped over her feet and _hakama_ several times in succession but somehow, incredibly, managed to save herself the embarrassment of falling flat on her face. A quick glance up at the hollow (he was standing a little further off now) confirmed that he no longer wore the playful expression from just a moment ago.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't trying to hide my spiritual pressure _that_ hard," Grimmjow said, looking off to the side. He seemed to have acquired a sudden interest in one of the abandoned buildings nearby.

"Uh-huh." Hoshi dusted herself off and readjusted her _shihakushō._

He was 'not trying.' When he had managed to successfully conceal his presence from several captain-class shinigami? _Please._ Though Yumichika had spent quite a few moments this morning sniffing the air coming in through one of the kitchen windows. No one else had noticed, so the impeccably groomed Fifth Seat had appeared content to keep it to himself, much to Hoshi's relief.

_Regardless,_ her mind supplied. The Sexta Espada was one very sore loser.

"You going this way?" Grimmjow indicated with a flick of his head.

Hoshi sighed, her feet pointed in that direction already. "Why are you asking? You already know all my routes."

They walked in silence for the most part – the shinigami didn't seem inclined to talk and Grimmjow, still sulking over his _reiatsu_ being discovered, wasn't in the mood to push her – along the old railroad tracks that ran across Karakura Town.

The wooden planks were chipped and broken and the metal rails were rusted, with a few sections even bent out of place. The buildings on either side of the tracks were all empty. Some bore traces of old fires, several were torn right down, and others were simply crumbling from disuse. Pieces of broken glass panes still lay where they had shattered. All that was missing was the wind whistling and a couple of balls of weeds rolling around, and Grimmjow might have mistaken it for a scene in one of those stupid human films that Starrk's pipsqueak always used to watch.

_Definitely not the happenin' part of town,_ the Sexta Espada thought sarcastically, running a careful eye over the area around him.

Why the hell they were having her patrol a place like this was completely beyond him. Everyone knew that hollow were drawn to humans and their souls. And this hollow right here could easily tell that almost everyone in this freakin' town right now was gathered on the _opposite_ end of Karakura. Grimmjow grudgingly supposed that it _was_ the direction they were heading in, but what a fucking waste of time to start way over here.

_Whatever,_ he mentally grumbled, while kicking up a little dust with his feet. _It's fine._

He'd let the shinigami do what she wanted. If she and her superiors wanted to screw around instead of guarding against hollow properly, it was their fucking problem. It made no real difference to him.

He had nothing better to do, anyway.

Fighting Kurosaki and settling things by mangling him up for good – Grimmjow's current main project in life – was on hold for the moment, until that idiot regained his powers. Because he _would,_ the espada was convinced. Kurosaki wasn't the type to just lie down and take it. And even if it did turn out that the shithead strawberry couldn't do it, then Grimmjow would find a way to fucking hand him his powers himself.

Already bored of scuffing the ground, the blue-haired arrancar hopped onto one of the metal rails of the train tracks and balanced along it, earning an eye-roll from the woman walking beside him when she thought he wasn't watching.

Joke was on her. He was _always_ watching.

_And about repaying her for healing me…_

Well, it had turned out that the shinigami hadn't needed his help with anything, after all. Not really that surprising, given that the hollow that typically invaded the living world were only small fry. Someone else might have killed ten or fifty of those for her and called it done, but that wasn't Grimmjow's style. He was fully aware of how serious his injuries had been; nothing less than an equally serious predicament for her would cut it. No, he'd return the favor in full. And then, once she couldn't hold that over him anymore…

_Then we'll have some fun._

Grimmjow let a slow grin spread across on his face, dark and eager. Hell, if he was in a good enough mood, he might even humor her by holding back a bit – let her have a good, long fight before gutting her, as thanks for keeping him entertained the past few weeks.

Until then, however, pissing the ever-living hell out of her was an amusing enough way to kill time.

Keeping his head tilted down towards the metal rail he was walking on, short blue bangs hanging haphazardly in front of his eyes, Grimmjow's eyes darted to the right to look at the shinigami that occupied his thoughts.

She had loosened up considerably around him since their first couple of meetings. Still alert, obviously – only a fucking idiot would forget _what_ he was, and he didn't waste his time on idiots – but she no longer had a death grip on her sword.

_Good._ A pleased growl almost escaped his throat.

Grimmjow was nothing if not picky about his prey. There was no fucking point if it was all cold sweat and white eyes. Nnoitra had gotten off on that shit: mass killings, weak or unarmed opponents, and easy victories. It had thoroughly disgusted the espada ranked directly under him. Fucking underhanded prick. Why would anyone bother destroying those who couldn't fight back? Survival, he could understand – intimately and in his bones – but it wasn't like espada still needed to constantly hunt and feed. That desperate struggle had been over the moment Fuckface-sama had broken their masks. So what threat or benefit were weaklings to them now? Where was the satisfaction, the fun?

No, this hollow liked his prey to have some kick to it.

Ever since their first meeting, with the intense focus of a cat messing around with a new toy while feigning disinterest, Grimmjow had increasingly prodded at the shinigami's little bubble of personal space (a hand here, an arm there, a nose just a few breaths away) and thrown all sorts of sharp jabs at her, to see how far he could go.

And what he found was fucking gold: the toy bit back.

She was careful – _very careful_ – and always stopped short of doing or saying something that would make him turn on her and leave her a bloody pulp, but she never gave ground to him either. It was such a change from the pathetic pickings left around Las Noches, where everyone pissed themselves at the sight of him (except Harribel and her three stooges, but he wanted nothing to do with them), that Grimmjow had not tried to seriously harm the shinigami since that day when pasty-ass had interfered. He was still assessing her fighting capabilities – she hadn't even busted out her _shikai_ yet – but what he had seen was pretty fucking decent and promised a good time once his stupid debt was cleared.

They had reached the old train station some time ago, briefly stopping so that the shinigami could perform a burial on some boy's soul – Grimmjow had offered to rip the chain out instead, arguing loudly that it was more fun on the other side, and had earned a stern look from his companion _(And what the hell's with all these fucking dead kids in this town, anyway?)_ – before heading north towards where all the action was.

"It's the shopping district on a Saturday morning," the woman informed him, eyebrows raised, as they landed on a low roof. "What did you expect?"

Grimmjow observed the swarms of people moving around the square below them, in and out of the stores, bodies crammed together, pushing and shoving. Everything was loud and smelly and close. _And this is supposed to be fucking enjoyable?_ He really couldn't understand humans. He'd rather take the open desert any day.

He shrugged off some of the carelessness that had settled on him on their way here, getting ready to take out any hollow that might show up to this free-for-all meal, and noticed that the shinigami standing in front of him did the same. Her shoulders pulled back and dropped down, and her left thumb started slowly rubbing the _tsuba_ of the sword at her hip.

Grimmjow spent a moment looking her over.

Her posture wasn't bad, but she had a tendency to tense up the muscles of her arms, both in combat and when anticipating it. Probably why she tired faster than she should; she had been short of breath all the times they had come across hollow, after only several minutes of fighting. She was most likely keeping unnecessary tension in other parts of her body, too – her movements betrayed that she turned on the balls of her feet rather than her heels, putting extra strain on her legs – but it was hard to tell with those loose black robes.

He had just realized that he hadn't once seen her in her _gigai (Heh, cautious bitch,_ he thought, eyes lingering on the small of her back), when something utterly tantalizing hit his nostrils.

Grimmjow whipped his head around, sniffing the air in front of him repeatedly, trying to find the source of the smell.

It was some kind of meat. Fresh, sizzling meat. Sharp and slightly salty. But… not meat. Not exactly. But close. It was so strong, he could freakin' taste it on his tongue. Whatever the fuck it was, it was driving him crazy!

Eyes still fixated on the direction of the scent, Grimmjow tilted his head over his shoulder. "Oi, Shinigami, do you smell –"

The rest of his question, as well as any thoughts of the mysterious fried food, vanished from his mind as he felt a pair of hands roughly grab his arms.

Caught in a rare moment of inattentiveness, Grimmjow lost his footing when she pushed off with her _shunpo_. He was hurled backwards off of the roof, feet dangling in the air, and propelled at high speed out of the open and into a dark alley adjoining the busy square, narrowly missing the trash bins placed at its entrance. With his back coming to slam, hard, into a brick wall, the espada found himself pressed tightly between it and the shinigami, who was still gripping both his arms with what must have been her full strength.

Black-rimmed eyes opened wide (their pupils contracting abruptly, from shock, into pinpricks), before narrowing dangerously. What the fuck did she think she was doing, touching him like this?! He was gonna fucking blast her into next week!

Grimmjow let out a low, menacing growl that rumbled through his body and worked its way out past his bared teeth, an involuntary split-second warning that he was about to spring.

A hand shot up, slapping fast over his mouth.

The shinigami spared him only the briefest of panicked glances, her eyes darting up the handful of inches that separated them from his own. She quickly returned her full attention to the end of the alley, watching people walk by with baited breath, as though the feral espada she was almost absentmindedly restraining was no real threat.

_The fuck?_ Grimmjow's eyes shot open again.

Instinctive reactions somewhat tempered by surprise, the hollow gave up on tearing her throat out – for now – in favor of carefully studying her.

This wasn't like her. He had spent the past three weeks tailing this shinigami and he had a pretty good eye for observing people's habits and abilities, if he said so himself. She'd never act like this towards him, not in her right mind. The knuckles of her left hand, still pinning his arm to the wall, were white. The hand pressed to his mouth was firm, but shaking slightly. And her spiritual pressure was so strangled, it almost vanished. In fact, if he hadn't been standing so freakin' close to her, he would have missed her presence completely.

Grimmjow's frown deepened. _What the fuck's going on?_

He suppressed his own _reiatsu_ to its barest minimum, and felt her immediately ease up a little in response.

He quirked a brow – was she hiding? _Tch._ The espada stopped resisting, and settled into his position against the wall. Might as well see what the damn fuss was about. He'd deal with her later. Blue eyes found the end of the alley, and waited.

Soon enough, a whirl of long orange hair blew past the alley. "Where could she have gone?!"

A second voice followed close behind. "Rangiku-san," it complained, "she's on patrol, she probably doesn't have time for shopping. Actually, wait, she shouldn't _be_ shopping while on the job!"

"But I haven't seen her in ages!" the first voice whined. "And it's fine, Isane, I do it all the time! Renji, you don't sense her either, do you?" Grimmjow could almost see the pout on the woman's face, just from her tone.

The voices faded as the three shinigami moved further and further away.

_Hn._ As he'd thought. Grimmjow turned his attention back to the woman still flattened against him. Well, so what if they saw him? _Big fucking deal._

He rolled his eyes at her – an action she missed completely; she still wasn't paying attention to him – and amusement slowly crept into their bright blue depths when the shinigami relaxed against him.

A soft sigh of relief left her barely parted lips, head still turned towards the end of the alley, and he felt it faintly, hot and moist, on his skin. Her grip slackened; her right hand now just grazed his face, while the other slipped down his arm a little to rest near his bare waist. Her sudden panic must have done a real fucking number on her brains – she clearly didn't realize that she was leaning into him, forehead bumping against his collarbone and hair brushing his chin, even as she did so. The rough fabric of her _gi_ tickled the skin his open jacket left uncovered, as her chest rose and fell with steadying breaths.

Shinigami, Grimmjow determined just then, were distractingly warm creatures. Or, at least, this one was.

His kneejerk reaction to being touched in any way had fizzled out by now. But that didn't mean he'd let her off easy. Contrary to popular belief, Grimmjow knew of more than one way to make someone squirm – especially someone so obviously uncomfortable with physical proximity. Just because he also happened to be wired that way didn't mean he had to fucking sympathize.

"You know, Shinigami," Grimmjow began slowly, easily pulling her hand away from his face and cocking his head to the side, "I never figured you for the aggressive type." His lips drew back into a smirk that casually exposed several sharp teeth, and his three short bangs fell attractively across his glinting eyes.

"Mm?" The woman looked up at him as he spoke, distractedly, her blank stare a sure sign that she was still dwelling on the near-miss with her fellow shinigami. It took another few moments of her blinking at him for his words to fully register.

He was not disappointed.

Grimmjow could see cold, uncomfortable realization sink in as her expression dropped and her eyes grew wide, flickering between his like a trapped animal's. A severe blush formed on each cheek and spread like wildfire. He traced it with his eyes as it burned itself down her neck and disappeared behind the inner white shirt of her uniform.

With a sharp yelp, the shinigami snatched her wrist out of his hand, as if it was on fire, and hurtled herself backwards. She forcefully collided with the opposite wall, hitting the back of her head on its brick surface with a good, solid crack. Grimmjow winced through his smirk.

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, partially disheveled and completely flustered. "You bastard! You – you're thoroughly enjoying making my life miserable!"

Whirling around, the shinigami took off down the alley at a brisk pace with her hands clenched in fists at her sides, not sparing a single glance backwards. She was quite a sight, with her flushed color and her little loose wisps of hair standing up all over her head.

Immensely satisfied with himself and the fact that he had unsettled her to such a degree, Grimmjow let out a deep chuckle and ran his fingers through his own hair, fixing any out-of-place strands, before returning his hands to his pockets.

A few long, measured strides, and he easily caught up to her. "Friends of yours, huh? Don't see why you flew off the fucking handle, though. You could just tell 'em; I ain't stopping you."

Up till now, Grimmjow had been fairly certain that she hadn't alerted any other shinigami to his presence. Today had simply confirmed it.

_Why,_ though, was a whole different matter. If his reading of her was right, then she was the kind to be a stickler for rules; she should have reported him weeks ago. But not even fucking Ulquiorra had shown up.

Was it because of that pale-faced bastard? What, they were freakin' buddies now, so she didn't want to report other arrancar in case it messed up his new fucking life?

The emotionless shit hadn't dropped by Las Noches _once_ since being revived. Well, other than that one time, but that didn't count – he'd been under shinigami supervision. He hadn't seen Harribel. Hadn't given a _single fuck_ about what was going on in Hueco Mundo. Did he think he was fucking human now, so screw the rest of them? Why wasn't Harribel busting _his_ ass about all that sticking together shit? Just thinking about it pissed the hell out of Grimmjow.

_Whatever._

He forced himself to stop dwelling on it. It wasn't his problem. It was the shinigami's problem. Leaving espada to their own devices in a human town was a huge fucking mistake on her part, but if that's what she wanted, she could go right ahead. More fun for him.

"Or you could just go away," Hoshi snapped.

She had picked up the pace once she had heard him shuffling after her. At the rate they were walking now, the next step would be straight-up _shunpo_.

Hoshi had absolutely no desire to talk to him, look at him, or to let him catch another glimpse of her face. Not until her thoughts and her body both stopped racing and settled down. That might not be for some time, however; the skin on her face was still painfully hot.

_Shit! Shit, shit, shit!_

The worst part was that it had been all self-inflicted.

When Rangiku, Renji and Lieutenant Kotetsu had come out of that store and Rangiku had started to wave at her from behind her mountain of shopping bags, Hoshi had acted on instinct. The Tenth Division's lieutenant was a pure genius when it came to gossip, and her Fourth Division counterpart was incapable of keeping secrets from her captain. The last thing Hoshi ever wanted to experience was an interrogation led by Captain Unohana on why an espada was hanging around her.

_And when the hell did Renji get here?! Why isn't he in Seireitei, working, like he's supposed to be?!_ If she ended up being grilled by Captain Kuchiki on why she had said nothing of the hollow in her reports, she thought she might actually enact her most-hated of female stereotypes and faint on the spot.

So focused had she been on avoiding them that she'd never realized how close to Grimmjow she had strayed. Not until he had jolted her awake with that stupid comment.

She had instantly become hyper-aware of everything: his large, cool hand wrapped around her wrist; the muscles of his forearm, firm and alive, under her palm; the fact that he must always smirk to his left, because of the mask covering the right side of his face, and the fact that when he grinned a particular kind of grin, he had a dimple.

_And his eyes._ She had looked directly into them, again. Today, clearly, was not a day for keeping promises she'd made to herself.

Hoshi's face started burning all over again, and she fought the urge to press it into her hands and pretend that the hollow walking right behind her wasn't really there. If she cared less about duty, she'd have made a beeline for the warehouse, locked herself in her room, and hidden under the bed-covers until it was time to go home to Soul Society. She hadn't felt this embarrassed in a very long time, not since her first days with Captain Kuchiki when she had been tongue-tied, tripping over her words around him, much to a certain red-head's amusement.

Right now, she just wanted to pull out her sword and fall on it.

_Speaking of which –_

Hoshi glanced down at her hip. Jishinha was oddly quiet. Normally, she couldn't get him to shut up. He had the infuriating habit of invading the privacy of her thoughts, unbidden, with 'helpful' advice and his innumerable opinions on _everything._ This silence didn't bode well. He'd probably talk up a storm later, complete with merciless teasing.

"Nah." Grimmjow's voice reached Hoshi, somehow, through the heavy haze that had settled on her. He was still being irritatingly smug. "There's nothing else to do. Unless you let me into that underground training area of yours."

A vein started throbbing on her forehead. She should have never mentioned the damn thing. "I told you, you can forget it."

"Come on!" he complained loudly. "I can't fight Kurosaki anymore, so I might as well fight whoever the hell's in there!"

"I said, no!" Hoshi shouted loudly, fuming and pinning him with a deadly glare, before turning to face forward again. He was really, _really_ pushing it today.

_Fuck, she's pissed._ Grimmjow's face broke out into a feral grin.

It was the first time he'd ever seen her so agitated. Usually, if he did manage to get under her skin, she just got a little snappy. He'd never gotten a reaction like this before, she was too careful around him for that.

Which reminded him, about earlier…

"Can't blame a guy for trying." Grimmjow shrugged, sidling up closer to her. "But let me tell you something, Shinigami…"

Hoshi only had a second to register the whisper of air that flew past her head before his hand shot out and grabbed her neck, throwing her to the ground in one fluid motion. He knelt on one knee next to her, still holding her down, and brought his face close to hers.

"Put your fucking hands on me again without my permission," Grimmjow breathed out near her ear, "and I'll kill you."

Her instinctive (and ineffective) struggling to get away from the hollow stopped, abruptly. It only took a second or two for her to change tactics and nod her understanding.

Grimmjow immediately released her and stood up, resuming the course of the patrol without missing a beat.

Hoshi also got up, a little slower, rubbing her neck. Again. _Does he always have to go for the neck?_

She had been shocked earlier, to say the least, when she realized that she had very physically manhandled the Sexta Espada with no apparent consequences. She should have known he'd never let it slide.

More than a little indignant at how she'd just been treated, and still reeling from the earlier incident, Hoshi nevertheless couldn't help but notice that he hadn't injured her. Unlike that one time, when he'd slammed her midair against a building, his push now had stopped just a hairsbreadth of ramming her into the ground. When she had touched the concrete, it had been with the force of a simple drop.

Hoshi decided she'd add 'bipolar' to the very long list of things that were wrong with this hollow.

"Yo, Shinigami! Quit lagging!" Grimmjow called back at her.

_And here I thought Kurotsuchi's mood swings were bad._ Hoshi grumbled under her breath, as she flash-stepped to catch up with him. She swore she'd never complain about dealing with anyone in the Gotei ever again.

A clap of thunder suddenly echoed across the sky.

If Grimmjow could have jumped out of his skin, he would have, Hoshi was convinced. It was actually a pretty impressive number of inches off the ground for a guy his size, considering he wasn't using _reishi_ to propel himself like he did in battle.

A mildly amused frown crossed her face, as she took in his impossibly round eyes that were scanning the air above them. "It's just thunder," she stated.

"Thunder?" he repeated. His body jerked again, reflexively, when another crash sounded. It was considerably closer this time.

"Yes, the weather forecast predicted a high chance of precipitation for today," Hoshi explained somewhat distractedly, preoccupied with the lightning that was currently splitting the sky. Forget showers, this was going to be an all-out thunderstorm. It was gaining on them fast, too; they really should find some shelter. Turning back to the hollow to say as much, Hoshi noticed that he still looked extremely confused. "Rain," she added.

"I know what fucking precipitation means!" Grimmjow redirected his mild panic into an outraged yell. "I've heard of rain, I've just never –"

Just then, the skies opened up.

The espada's voice faltered as water came crashing down all around them, and Hoshi's visibility was reduced to the area just beyond her nose. In only a matter of seconds, she was thoroughly soaked to the skin, _shihakushō_ uncomfortable and heavy, hanging bulkily off of her body.

Grimmjow let out the most pathetic noise of distress Hoshi had ever heard, and darted for the nearest cover.

She fought the laughter that was threatening to come bubbling out.

_I had_ no idea _he could produce sounds like that!_ Who would have thought that the aggressive and dangerous Sexta Espada shrieked like a little girl? No one would ever believe her. As a true former member of the Twelfth Division, she now fervently wished that she had somehow recorded it.

A few moments later, Hoshi found a very wet, very pissed off Grimmjow shaking off maniacally under a brightly colored overhang. The yellow and pink daisies that decorated the _Sunflower Sewing_ shop logo clashed horribly with the murderous hollow standing underneath them, and did nothing to assuage her barely controlled mirth.

He had taken off his jacket and was in the process of wringing it – not that that would do much, the fabric looked to be as waterlogged as that of her own clothes. It did, however, display the little of his upper body that his outfit had left to the imagination, and Hoshi suddenly found herself extremely grateful for the heavy rain. There was no denying that he was in good shape – _very good shape_ – but she was determined to try her best to do just that.

Grimmjow put on his jacket and shook his head again, presumably to get the water off of his hair, but only succeeded in plastering multiple blue strands of it all over his face. Standing on one foot, he violently pulled off one of his boots to drain it, half-slipping on the wet ground in the process. The hollow performed the most awkward little dance to regain his balance, eliciting a loud snort from Hoshi.

He glared at her.

"You've never seen rain before?" Hoshi managed to cough out, as she joined him under the overhang. Well, that answered _that_ question about Hueco Mundo.

"No!" Grimmjow shouted from where he was struggling to put his boot back on. "The fuck is this shit?!"

She snorted again, a breathy laugh escaping from her as she undid her hair. 'Divine retribution,' she was dying to answer, but she doubted that would go over well.

"It's a natural phenomenon that happens here, as well as in Soul Society," she said instead, pulling her hair off to one side and wringing it. "When it gets intense like this, it's kind of like a sandstorm, I suppose; except with water, obviously. It's what nourishes the plant life and, at least in Seireitei, provides us with most of our drinking water."

"Don't give me a stupid definition!" Grimmjow snapped, occupied with his other boot. "I already know all that crap, I meant when does it stop?!"

"Well, it can take a couple of minutes for the storm to pass, or it can take a couple of days," Hoshi considered, tapping a finger to her lips. "It really just depends on the weather conditions."

"You're fucking kidding me," he muttered. With his hair hanging down all soggy and obstructing his eyes, he really looked completely miserable. She didn't feel sorry for him one bit, however; in fact, she was inclined to laugh some more. "So what are you supposed to do until it stops?"

Hoshi shrugged, patting her loose hair down to see if she'd gotten all the excess water out. "You just go about your business as usual."

Grimmjow, now trying to squeeze out the water from his _hakama_ (and was Hoshi ever thankful that he hadn't attempted to divest himself of _that_ ), stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the look of complete disbelief and disgust that he wore on his face at her answer.

His eyes flickered to the bright light and tracked it carefully, until another loud boom thundered.

"Are you afraid of a little rain?" Hoshi teased.

She figured that she should be relatively safe – it didn't look like the espada would leave the sanctuary of the overhang for anything. And she could always jump back out into the rain, if need be.

"Of course not!" Grimmjow declared, even as he kept more than half of his attention focused on the weather. "It's just fucking annoying!"

She closed her eyes and shook her head, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips. This really was _too_ entertaining. Hoshi pulled her hair back up and tied it into its customary bun.

"What if it doesn't stop?" His voice, now quiet and hesitant, broke the too-brief silence.

"Hm?" Hoshi turned to him, slight confusion playing on her face. He almost sounded worried. Was water falling from the sky really that jarring? Surely he'd seen stranger things before _._ "Oh. It'll stop," she said with confidence.

"But what if _it doesn't?"_ Grimmjow insisted through gritted teeth. He had finished drying himself off – or, more likely, had given up on the endeavor – and was now observing the storm. With one hand placed on a beam supporting the overhang, the espada narrowed his eyes at the weather, as though he could intimidate it into going away.

Hoshi had always considered herself a mature individual.

Between dealing with Renji and Shūhei, among others –who every so often had some 'brilliant idea' and then had to be rescued from themselves – and working under demanding people like Kurotsuchi and Captain Kuchiki, she had developed into one of the most responsible shinigami in Seireitei. Captain Kyoraku had complained about her attitude more than once, claiming that 'Nanao-chan' single-handedly already fulfilled the Gotei's quota.

There was no trace of that maturity right now, however, as she witnessed Grimmjow's palpable distress at his current predicament. He had been bugging her for weeks on end, and she was going to relish every moment of terror she could inflict upon him.

"Well… I suppose there's always a chance it _won't,_ " Hoshi said slowly, making a show of thinking very hard on the matter. "I mean, it has always stopped in the past – though I've heard that up north in some countries it can take up to a few months." He must have been expecting a different answer, perhaps more of her soothing reassurances that the rain would indeed stop.

She firmly bit down on her tongue before continuing, hard-pressed not to burst into a fit of giggles. "But there's no telling what might happen in the future. Oh, in fact," she said brightly, clapping her hands together, "the Christians have a story about a thunderstorm that lasted forty days and nights. By the end, the entire world was completely drowned in water. It's only a myth, of course, but myths are always based on facts, so… you never know."

If he had had a heart, it surely would have ceased beating. A little more of this, and his complexion would be drained enough to rival Ulquiorra's.

_Serves him right, though,_ Hoshi thought, regarding the poorly hidden horror in his eyes. _He's not the only one who can play this game._

"Well, I've got a patrol to get back to," she stated in a business-like voice. "I assume you're not inclined to join me for the rest of it?"

Grimmjow's answer came in the form of a dirty look and a sound of disgust, when he saw her go back out into the pouring rain and just _stand_ there, at the mercy of the elements, looking all kinds of unconcerned.

Hoshi laughed. "See you around, right, Espada?" With a final smirk, she flash-stepped as far as she could run.

She ended up at Karakura High School, the next main landmark on her rounds, drenched, winded, flushed, and smiling widely.

A fierce bout of laughter shook her body. Hoshi leaned on one arm against the wall of the schoolyard for support as she doubled-over.

Perhaps today wasn't as bad a day as it had seemed.

Maybe having experienced the unpredictability of rain for himself would lessen Grimmjow's interest in the world of the living.

And, best of all, beginning bright and early tomorrow morning, this all would be someone else's problem and Hoshi would never have to see the Sexta Espada again.

* * *

The screen flickered steadily, emitting a pale pink light, as Akon struggled to keep his eyes open.

He sat alone in front of one of the monitors in the gloom that was the Spiritual Wave Measurement Lab after dark, with only a few other division members walking quietly around on the other levels.

Leave it to Torue to get sick when no one else was available to cover her shift.

_Honestly._ Akon nursed his mug of coffee. _The Vice-President of the Research and Development Institute should not have to do grunt work like this._

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than he looked down into the liquid's black depths, frowning. Damn. He was starting to sound like Sarugaki.

With a sigh, Akon raised the mug to his face and returned his eyes to the screen.

He blinked.

That couldn't be right.

Continuing to hold the mug near his lips, he used his free hand to refresh the spiritual wave tracking data just posted by the bot they had left behind in Hueco Mundo after Aizen's defeat. The S.W.M. Lab was responsible for monitoring only the world of the living, but the captain had seen no reason why they couldn't extend their reach now that the hollow's world was practically his playground.

The reading stayed the same.

Akon continued to stare at the screen, blankly. He exited the program, rebooted the system, and opened the application again.

The numbers still persisted.

Now thoroughly awake, the Third Seat of the Twelfth Division put down his still-full mug of coffee and manually shut down the entire unit. Perhaps it was a hardware error.

_It must be. Hollow don't just disappear._

But even as he was under the table pulling the plug, Akon couldn't quite swallow away the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Akon? What on earth are you doing?"

Bang!

"Oh, Hiyosu," Akon muttered as he crawled back out, rubbing his head.

Before he could offer an explanation, the system turned back on. Both men turned to look at the display, which happily showed the same results as before.

"Is that – what is that?" Hiyosu asked, leaning in so close he was in danger of falling into the monitor.

Akon rubbed his face. "That's what I've been trying to figure out. I thought it might be a problem with the program or with the computer itself, but… "

"… It may just be a glitch," Hiyosu suggested uncertainly, pointing to one of the columns on the screen. "The numbers are low – very low. See? It's only showing four as disappeared. Maybe it didn't register their deaths correctly."

"Maybe," Akon said slowly.

Hiyosu _was_ right. This was experimental technology, after all. No one had ever stationed spiritual wave measuring equipment in Hueco Mundo before. And even if the hollow had, by some mysterious chance, 'disappeared _,'_ it was only four of them – not a number that would threaten the spiritual stability between worlds. Not by a long shot. There was no need for immediate concern. Right?

The three-horned scientist exhaled loudly. He hadn't gotten this far in the Gotei Thirteen by leaving well enough alone.

"Who had the shift before Torue?"

"Kuna," Hiyosu replied. "She didn't report anything strange."

Akon watched the screen a little longer, thinking. "Go find her and bring her here. And bring me the log records from the past forty-eight hours from Hueco Mundo, Tsubokura should have them all printed by now. Actually, just bring Tsubokura along too," he finished tiredly.

Two hours and several fruitless discussions later found all the primary operators of the Research and Development Institute gathered around the glowing pink screen. An hour later they were joined by their captain and lieutenant.

And, for the very first time since the early days of Aizen's defection, Akon's coffee mug sat on the table forgotten, growing cold.


	8. When It Rains, It Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

A beep sounded, startling Hoshi out of her thoughts.

She took the sheet of paper from the copier and put in the next one, frowning at the machine as though everything was its fault.

For several nights now, the peach-haired shinigami had slept in her own bed – and it had been the most wonderful feeling in the world.

As much as she enjoyed travelling and the occasional mission outside of Soul Society, the living world, ultimately, was too much on her senses. It was too chaotic, too loud, and there wasn't nearly enough _reishi_ to live there comfortably for more than a couple of days. She honestly didn't know how Urahara's group and the visored did it.

Hoshi returned to Seireitei in mid-May to find it flooded by sunshine, chirping birds, and the smell of freshly cut grass. Work was back to normal – routine, familiar, and uninterrupted – and her residence was blissfully free of arrancar, zanpakutō, captains of the Twelfth Division and any other intruders. The day-to-day in the Gotei certainly had its challenges, and maybe she had simply gained a new-found appreciation for it after spending almost a month away, but the life that had greeted her once she'd stepped out of the _senkaimon_ and onto the open, wide-tiled courtyard was one of overall serenity.

Or it had been until she had answered the door this morning.

...

_Hoshi practically skipped to the Sixth Division offices, despite the early hour._

_The sun wouldn't rise for a while yet, and neither would Renji or any of the other seated officers. So, unless a hell butterfly popped in to announce an emergency (and she swore that if it did, she would promptly rip its pretty little wings off and feed it to the waterwheel plant in the lobby – a gift from Yachiru to Captain Kuchiki, though why he hadn't thrown the damn thing out yet she had no clue), she had the whole place to herself. She was going to file paperwork, sort out the day's reports, fine-tune next month's calendar for everyone's shifts, and reorganize the data-book shelves – all in peaceful privacy!_

_She reached the building, unlocked the door and then locked it behind her again, dropping the key in her pocket. Putting some music on low on the little portable device she had picked up in the living world, Hoshi hummed along and went to the office's kitchen._

First things first, _she thought to herself._ Get tea and coffee started for everyone before they all barge in and make a mess out of everything again.

_In her absence – she had realized with horror on her first day back as she'd pulled open one of the cupboard doors, even as Mihane and Rikichi had quickly yelled at her to stop – the entire pantry had fallen into disarray. Literally. She'd spent a good chunk of that morning putting it all back in order. The barely perceptible but grateful smile that she had noticed on her captain's face as he'd walked by later, however, had been well worth the hassle._

_With the water set to boil, Hoshi went back out to the main area and weaved around the work stations, switching on all the computers and other machines._

_Once that was done, she made her way to her own desk and rifled through the papers there, sorting them into stacks, before finally sitting down to look over a document titled 'Sixth Division Recruitment Brochure.'_

_While she'd been gone, the Captain-Commander apparently had decreed that all divisions be interviewed by the_ Seireitei Communication _about what they looked for in potential recruits, and the special issue featuring their comments would be geared towards preparing this year's Academy graduates for work in the Gotei Thirteen. Shūhei had mentioned, when she had seen him briefly in the living world, that he'd have someone from the magazine bring over the transcript for the Sixth Division (for 'some editing,' he had said with a slight grimace)._

_Not even two sentences in, Hoshi banged her forehead several times against the hard, dark wood of her desk. Taking a deep breath, she resumed reading the painful material in front of her._

'Visiting the Sixth Division, our correspondent first spoke with its captain, Byakuya Kuchiki.

'Interviewer: How would you describe the atmosphere around your division?

'Byakuya Kuchiki: If you join, you'll know.

'Interviewer: Some words for the shinigami recruits?

'No comment was given by Byakuya Kuchiki.

'Next, he interviewed the division's lieutenant, who had a bit more to say.

'Interviewer: What kind of individuals are you seeking?

'Renji Abarai: Anyone's good.

'Interviewer: What do you require of new recruits?

'Renji Abarai: Guys who aim high, guys interested in soccer.

'Interviewer: Some words for the shinigami recruits?

'Renji Abarai: If you think you can surpass me, go ahead and try it!'

 _Hoshi face-palmed._ Seriously?! _This was the best that Renji and the captain could come up with for the magazine? They couldn't publish this! Had those two even put any thought into it? What the hell kind of answers were those?_ That's it, I'm never leaving them alone again!

 _With a wistful look at her handwritten list of all the things she had been planning to do that morning, Hoshi opened a drawer and put the list away. She_ had _to fix this article; it took priority over everything else. So much for best-laid plans._

_A series of eager thuds echoed loudly throughout the empty building._

_Hoshi looked up at the clock – it was still far too early for anyone else from her division to start work for the day._

_Was it the captain? Maybe he needed something. But no, he had keys._

_Briefly pausing to turn the music off, she made her way to the front door and unlocked it, pulling it open just a crack._

_No sooner had she caught sight of the top of a teal-haired head, when the door burst open and knocked her back several paces._

_"Hoshi!" a loud, cheerful voice exclaimed._

_"… Anri-san," Hoshi greeted shakily, holding a hand to her nose._

_"Fancy seeing you here first thing in the morning!" the older woman laughed. "Where's Byakko?"_

_"The captain's not here yet," Hoshi answered, tentatively prodding her throbbing nose to make sure it was still attached and functional. "Can I take a message?"_

_"Oh, don't be ridiculous, I'll wait for him." With that, the small woman promptly pushed past Hoshi and made a beeline for Renji's desk, plopping down on his chair and propping her feet up on the table, making herself thoroughly comfortable. If one didn't know better, one would think she was a long-time member of the Sixth Division._

_Hoshi let out a soft sigh and closed the door. She regarded the handle – no point locking it back up now, she supposed._

_"I'm not sure when he's planning on coming in this morning, Anri-san. It might be a while," she said, going back to her desk._

_The woman called Anri shrugged, casually poking through Renji's things. "I was going to break in and hang around till he showed up anyway. I didn't think I'd find anyone here this early, honestly."_

_Hoshi offered a sheepish smile before turning around to continue with her work._

_She still hadn't quite gotten used to Shūhei's Third Seat._

_Anri Nagakage had swooped in out of nowhere on the heels of Aizen's departure from Soul Society, appearing in the Ninth Division one fine afternoon._

_The short but explosive woman had taken over said division by storm and had sent its poor tattooed lieutenant running out of his own barracks. Between her ruthless efficiency as a seated officer and her insistence (usually accompanied by extremely physical means of persuasion) that Shūhei take a break from his duties for the good of his health, Hoshi had started to suspect the Captain-Commander's true motives regarding the mysterious woman. There was little doubt in her mind that he had placed Anri-san under Shūhei's command to ensure that what remained of the Ninth Division's leadership didn't crumble under the pressure of its captain's betrayal._

_How very like Captain-Commander Yamamoto. It was almost sweet, in that I-notice-everyone-under-my-command kind of way, though his primary objective was certainly much more cutthroat; namely, preserving the integrity of the Gotei at any cost. And there was absolutely no question that Anri-san's methods were instantly effective, albeit somewhat brutal. Aside from the new smarting bruises that Shūhei sometimes sported, he seemed to be doing a lot better since her arrival._

_Still, no one knew where she'd come from. Hoshi herself had perused a thousand years' worth of records from each and every division alongside Shūhei, during one of his early bouts of forced bedrest, when he'd been determined to find out exactly who the hell the woman ordering him around was. Patting his head in solidarity, Hoshi had turned page after page in the old tomes (Shūhei had all but been strapped to his bed), but there had been no indication that Anri Nagakage had ever served in the Gotei Thirteen before._

_And yet, she clearly had long-established connections with both the Sixth and the Third Divisions (as Shūhei, to his dismay, found out while he was trying to evade her one day; his attempts to hide, first with Hoshi and then with Kira, had both ended in miserable failure). She also was on first-name terms with Captains Ukitake, Kyoraku and Hirako. Not to mention, she playfully addressed the Second Division's captain as 'Fon-Fon,' with no consequence._

_Anri-san was a puzzle indeed, Hoshi decided, and one that was currently sitting in_ her _space during what was supposed to be_ her _alone-time._

_She blew out a puff of air._

_"And just so you know, I was being sarcastic before," Anri-san continued, now skimming through one of Renji's sunglasses magazines. "Of course if there was going to be someone here in the small hours of the morning it would be you. You're just like Shūhei – all work and no play. It really isn't good for you. Do you get enough sleep? Please tell me that you eat well, at least, unlike my idiot."_

_The rest of Hoshi's morning passed in a flurry of fast-paced talk and easy laughter. Anri-san was like a fireball of energy. She was sweet, friendly, and completely unpredictable in what she'd do or say next. Hoshi liked the woman well enough, and she could have been saddled with far less pleasant company while preparing the office for the day, but spending too much time with Anri-san in one go left the peach-haired shinigami out of breath and never knowing quite exactly where she was._

_She had no chance of getting any real work done, either. Anri-san fluttered about her shoulders like an over-excited bird, only briefly stopping to pester Renji when he walked in, until Captain Kuchiki finally arrived._

_"Byakko!" The energetic shinigami leapt to greet the captain._

_Not expecting an ambush within the walls of his own division, Captain Kuchiki, unfortunately, did not duck out of the way in time and ended up with a small female firmly latched onto his upper arm._

I swear, she's like an older Yachiru, _Hoshi mused, struggling, and failing, to keep a straight face._

_Captain Kuchiki shot both Hoshi and Renji (who, admittedly, was doing a much poorer job than she) a dirty look, and sent them both coughing and scrambling back to their duties._

_He walked to his own office: stone-faced, resigned, and still trying to shake off the latest in his triad of personal demons._

_"Oh, Hoshi, I meant to ask earlier!" Anri-san exclaimed, suddenly releasing Captain Kuchiki and whirling around to face her. "Have you been hanging around anyone who… how shall I put this? Isn't quite a shinigami?"_

_Hoshi stared blankly at her, confusion written all over her face. "What do you mean?"_

_"I'm not sure myself," Anri-san laughed. "It's just that your_ reiatsu _feels a little funny. Like there's something extra there, clinging to it."_

_"Oh." Hoshi frowned a bit, racking her brain. "Well, I did just get back from the living world recently. I was staying with the visored."_

_"That must be it," Anri-san nodded. "I've noticed Shinji's_ reiatsu _is a little peculiar, especially when he's upset or agitated. I can't imagine Hiyori's!"_

_Spinning around with a shout of 'Byakko!' the small woman dove after Captain Kuchiki who had retreated into his office, door slamming shut behind her._

_The pair had been in there for a good few minutes, with several failed attempts by the captain to forcibly extract Anri-san from the premises, before the realization hit Hoshi like a ton of bricks._

_She almost dropped the cup of tea Renji had just handed her._

_It wasn't the visored that Anri-san felt._

_It was Grimmjow._

_With a mood swing worthy of a drunken Rangiku, Hoshi went about the rest of her work practically bristling._

_The inexplicable dark cloud that suddenly settled around her caused even Renji to give her a wide berth. His bold eyebrows twisted in confusion, but he knew better than to ask what was wrong._

What the hell?! _Hoshi ranted off in her head._ He left his bloody _reiatsu_ on me? That asshole! Who died and gave him the right? And how?! Is that even possible? _She'd never heard of something like this happening before. Then again, she didn't know many people who regularly kept company with hollow. Other than Ichigo, that was, but he wasn't normal. Should she ask Inoue, when she got the chance? The girl wasn't a shinigami, but she did have Ulquiorra around her all the time, after all._

_Maybe Anri-san was pulling her leg._

No, she wouldn't do that, _Hoshi argued with herself._ Why would she? Still, how on earth can she tell? No one else has said anything. Hell, I didn't notice myself! _Was Anri-san just that ridiculously sensitive to minute changes in spiritual pressure?_

Ugh! _Hoshi shuddered, not being able to shake the feeling of something foreign hugging her skin. It was like when you found a bug on you, and then kept having the sensation of little feet scurrying all over your body._ It's been so many days, too – just how much _reiatsu_ does he have that it leaked out like this, even when suppressed?!

_A shower. A very, very hot shower. She'd scrub her skin off if she had to, as soon as she got home. She would ask to leave early, but that was virtually unheard of and would only raise questions._

No, no, wait, you can't wash _reiatsu_ off like that. _Hoshi violently shook her head, drawing a mildly worried stare from her lieutenant._ What am I even thinking?!

...

Hoshi slammed down the machine's lid on the next page to be copied.

_That stupid espada._

She hadn't thought of him once since she'd left the living world, and now here he was, occupying the center of her thoughts again. It was utterly infuriating.

And, along with him, the uncomfortable question her mind had kept posing and she had kept avoiding now resurfaced with a vengeance.

Why hadn't she reported him?

 _Obviously, I can't tell everyone about him, with Ulquiorra's case still being reviewed by the Central Forty-Six,_ Hoshi reasoned. _They'd probably catch wind and panic and declare it a veritable invasion. Despite the fact that it's only two arrancar who couldn't care less about humans. Yes, they'd most likely want the entire Gotei to mobilize to apprehend these foul invaders._ She half-snorted at the scenario, her sullen mood slowly starting to fade away.

But, in all seriousness, she should have at least told Urahara. It wasn't like he answered to the Gotei or anything. So why hadn't she? _Well… the first couple of times I ran into him were a shock and I wasn't really in a state to think rationally, and after that… well, it dragged out too long! It would have been awkward to say anything to Urahara at that point. Honestly, what could I have said? 'Oh, by the way, there's this espada that's been following me for a few weeks now. I totally forgot to mention it earlier!'_

 _Yes,_ she nodded firmly to herself. _Exactly._ Satisfied with her own explanation of her behavior, Hoshi felt her mood lifting even further and, with a slight twinge of guilt, decided she'd go a little easier on the poor, innocent machine in front of her.

"Hey, Hoshi?" Renji asked hesitantly, tentatively poking his head around the stack of papers that were precariously piled on top of the copier. He must have noticed that she no longer wore what he'd once termed her 'scary face,' because he continued in his normal voice. "The captain wants to see you in his office."

Hoshi paused, hand poised to grab the paper that had just printed and to replace it with the next. _What? Why?!_ Had Anri-san said something to him?

"Oh. Is Anri-san finally gone?" She forced a half-hearted smile, her palms starting to sweat a little. "I'll be right there." She reluctantly set the paperwork aside on a table – she had promised Yagamo-san she'd get everything to him at the editing office by noon, but it didn't look like that was likely anymore. She just needed to stop promising people things.

Renji made no move to follow her.

"Aren't you coming?" Hoshi asked. The red-head usually tagged along for her meetings with Captain Kuchiki, insatiably curious and not wanting to be left out of anything that happened around their division.

"Nope." Renji shrugged. "He made it very clear that it's a private meeting."

Hoshi's eyes went wide.

 _Maybe Anri-san did say something! No, calm down. She believed the visored explanation;_ I _believed the visored explanation. But if it's not that, then what? I don't think I've messed anything up. Have I? Was it the outgoing mail? I'm pretty sure I double-checked all the addresses. Maybe the lettering smeared? Or I dropped the stuff in the wrong box? I should have checked again before placing them –_

"Yo! Stop that!" Renji said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. Hoshi blinked and looked up at him. "Relax, I don't think you could screw up if you tried." He placed a large, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're working yourself up over nothing, stupid."

She offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Renji." A simple phrase, but she meant it wholeheartedly. He always knew how to reign in her overactive imagination before she gave herself palpitations.

After making absolutely sure that neither her lieutenant nor anyone else would touch the project she was currently in the middle of – 'Yes, yes, _yes_ , you've said it three times, we get it already!' – Hoshi made her way to Captain Kuchiki's office.

The screen door was drawn open.

"Captain?" she inquired. "You asked to see me?"

"Hoshi. Yes. Come in, and close the door behind you." Captain Kuchiki barely glanced up from his writing.

Hoshi did as she was told, and approached his desk, waiting patiently to be addressed.

"Have a seat," he continued.

Putting one last touch to the letter he was writing, Captain Kuchiki finally looked up as Hoshi lowered herself on one of the chairs. Grey eyes quickly ran over her. "There is no need to look so worried. At least, not for the reasons you may be imagining."

Her primary concern addressed and out of the way, Hoshi began to relax. She suddenly sat up straight, a delayed reaction kicking in. "Captain?" she asked. "Did something happen?"

"Perhaps," he answered slowly. With elegant movements, he placed the ink brush he was holding on its stand. "Hoshi. The information I am about to give you is confidential. It is not to be shared with anyone, within or without our division. Is this clear?"

Hoshi nodded her head, slight apprehension coloring her face nonetheless. _What the hell is going on_ now?

"Captain Kurotsuchi approached me personally this morning to request your assistance with a certain matter that has come up," Captain Kuchiki continued. Hoshi couldn't help rolling her eyes, and made to interrupt him, but he raised his hand. "I know what you want to say. I, too, think he has collected far more in recompense from us than his precious research facility could have ever been worth. But it is the Captain-Commander's orders that this matter be dealt with swiftly and silently."

Hoshi sighed quietly. Captain Kuchiki's hands were tied, she knew, as long as the Captain-Commander approved of Kurotsuchi using the Sixth Division's resources as he saw fit. All the same, she just couldn't _wait_ to hear what fabulous new project her former captain had thought up of now.

"I should preface this by saying that there is no one more suitable for this task than yourself," Captain Kuchiki said, closing his eyes. "You have experience with the Twelfth Division and have travelled to Hueco Mundo on countless occasions with them. Furthermore, you possess versatility with technological equipment, are adequately adept at the basics of combat, and have a cool head on your shoulders – a rare thing, even in this division. This makes you an ideal candidate."

If Hoshi's jaw could reach the floor, it would have broken through the floorboards and driven itself several feet into the ground. Praise? From Captain Kuchiki? And this early in the day, too? It wasn't even half past eleven! This was unprecedented.

'If it's too good to be true, then it most certainly is' – a favorite saying of Kurotsuchi's – popped into her head and brought her giddy senses crashing back to earth.

Hoshi quickly changed her bemused, flushed expression to a small frown. She had no doubt that Captain Kuchiki meant every word he had said – Byakuya Kuchiki didn't _lie;_ not exactly. And the things he had just listed off, now that she thought about it carefully, were essentially no more than facts. In fact, the longer she spent thinking about it, the more it seemed that he was trying in his way (his slightly awkward, very obvious, unpracticed way) to butter her up so that she would take on what had started sounding like a thoroughly undesirable task.

Captain Kuchiki studied her closely for a minute – a very long minute that made her start to squirm in her seat – before continuing. "To my knowledge, only the leading researchers at the Research and Development Institute, Kurotsuchi, Captain-Commander Yamamoto and myself currently know of this issue. The Captain-Commander is aware that Kurotsuchi is asking us to take point in this mission, and I will not have the Sixth Division fail his expectations."

 _Oh no._ The more her captain talked, the more Hoshi decided she wanted nothing to do with this matter, whatever it was. That was sadly out of the question, however – it seemed that Captain Kuchiki's pride was at stake. _When isn't it?_ Hoshi thought with exasperation.

Watching Hoshi carefully from behind a veneer of masterful detachment, Byakuya weighed his next words in his mind.

He had always favored the direct approach, and knew that his Third Seat had an appreciation for candor as well. "Hollow are disappearing in Hueco Mundo," he stated simply.

He saw the same confusion settle on her face that he had worn on his own but a few hours ago. Hoshi made several attempts at a response, he noted, before she finally spoke. "Captain… do you mean… they're dying off?"

"No." Byakuya gave a miniscule shake with his head. "Kurotsuchi was oddly adamant about this. He specified that they are 'disappearing' – their spiritual signatures vanish, as though they had never existed in the first place." He let that sink in, before continuing. "It is but a small number as of now, one that hardly grazed the radars of the Research and Development Institute. I suppose someone quite astute must have been on duty to even notice it."

She nodded slowly, her sharp eyes slightly distant. As expected – her mind was already moving at the speed of _shunpo,_ sifting through the information she kept in her head, trying to piece everything together.

"As a former member of the Twelfth, I shouldn't have to explain to you what would happen if this situation were to continue unchecked and the number of missing souls added up," Byakuya said, pulling his subordinate out of her thoughts.

Hoshi's attention snapped to him again. "Of course not, Captain. Spiritual imbalance affecting all three worlds would be the only possible outcome. What do you need from me?"

"You will go to Hueco Mundo," Byakuya stated. "Search for any evidence that could indicate what happened to the hollow. Signs of a struggle, traces of strange _reiatsu_ – report back anything you can find. Kurotsuchi wants you to discuss the matter with the new ruler of Hueco Mundo as well. Speak with her only if you can find her and she appears to be in an agreeable mood. Do not endanger yourself needlessly."

"Understood, Captain," Hoshi nodded again. "How many can I take with me?"

 _And so we come to the crux of the matter._ Byakuya steeled himself inwardly, to deliver what he knew his Third Seat would consider nothing less than a death sentence.

"None."

He watched the color immediately drain from her cheeks, as predicted. A heavy silence dragged on between them, until she broke it with halting words. "… b-but… but Captain –" she stuttered.

"None, Hoshi," Byakuya said firmly, cutting her off. It wasn't often that she lost her composure like this. As much as he thoroughly disliked being the one responsible for her discomfort, duty came first. In any other given situation, he knew that she would agree with him. "This is to be a solo mission. Shinigami are already out of place in Hueco Mundo by definition. No matter how well one can hide _reiatsu,_ one will be noticed. If we send in more than the absolute minimum, we run the risk of alerting whatever it is that is preying on the hollow."

By now, his Third Seat's entire face had turned a disturbing shade of pale. She opened her mouth to protest again.

"This is not up for discussion, Hoshi," Byakuya almost snapped. "Or are you refusing the mission?"

Her wide eyes stared at him, locked onto his own, before dropping down in defeat to look at her folded hands in her lap. "No, sir," she responded quietly.

He closed his eyes in well-hidden relief. Byakuya had been certain that she would accept the mission, despite all her fears and reservations. All the same, he couldn't help feeling a small measure of pride at hearing the confirmation in her words.

"Finish only what work is absolutely necessary. You can hand the rest over to Mihane, and she will distribute it among the other officers. Once you are done, make your own preparations and go to the Research Institute. Kurotsuchi will be waiting." Byakuya dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

Hoshi got up from the chair, somewhat shakily, and made her way to the door.

"And Hoshi," he added, in a low, serious tone. She turned to regard him, her slate-blue eyes not quite meeting his. "Not a word of this to anyone."

She bowed her understanding – and it was the sloppiest bow, in his memory, that she had ever performed – and left, closing the door behind her.

Once the wood of the screen knocked gently against the door frame, Byakuya let out an imperceptible sigh and leaned back in his seat.

 _There really is no one better to send out,_ he told himself, tapping a finger on the rigid, wooden armrests of his chair.

He was fully aware of the panic such a mission induced in her. He spared a thought as to whether Kurotsuchi, in his capacity as her previous captain, was also aware of this issue. He decided it didn't really matter.

Byakuya may have been born to the nobility of Soul Society, but he was painfully familiar with life in Rukongai – both as a serving member of the Gotei and because of Hisana. The further out one ventured from Seireitei, the more miserable existence became; and Hoshi came from quite the distance. No fear was ever born from nothing, and there was plenty to fear in the wild, lawless lands that stretched out into infinity.

He had watched, for the past two decades, with the guarded affection that only Rukia, perhaps, would be able to identify as such, as his Third Seat had clawed through her insecurities to become an invaluable member of his division. Still, tiny fragments of the one thing that had once held enough power over her to paralyze her in terror lingered in her heart. It was time for her to face them, to tear them out for good, to stop letting them hold her back – and this was the perfect opportunity.

It was not as though she would be entirely alone, either. The best minds of the Research and Development Institute would be monitoring her progress.

And, after all was said and done, it was a simple mission. Almost mind-numbingly so.

Go to Hueco Mundo. Look around. Return.

There was no need for worry.

She would be fine.

* * *

 

"Calm down, Hoshi," she whispered to herself, almost like a mantra. "Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down."

It was not helping in the slightest.

"Just get over it!" she snapped, clutching her head with both hands. "What's panicking going to do, anyway?"

Her voice echoed back at her through the darkness of the _garganta._ Predictably, the empty silence that reasserted itself a moment later offered absolutely no answer.

Hoshi stood frozen in the middle of a _reishi_ pathway where her legs had decided to just stop working, refusing to take another step forward toward Hueco Mundo.

She tried a different approach. "Captain Kuchiki would not have sent you if he didn't think you could handle it," she reasoned, in a slightly steadier voice. There. Logic. Good. "He clearly thinks you are ready for such missions. Do you _want_ to let him down?"

The image of those dark grey eyes blinking in silent disappointment sprung to her mind. She'd never been the reason for that expression, but she'd seen him wear it enough around others to have it committed to memory. The thought of not measuring up to the captain's standards – of him turning away, coldly, _haori_ billowing behind him as he walked off – was enough to bring a sting to her eyes and heat to her cheeks.

Her legs started moving again.

Strands of slightly damp hair hung dully in front of Hoshi's face, some sticking to her cold skin by the thin film of sweat that covered her. It grew harder to breathe with every heavy step she took towards Hueco Mundo, heart leaping into her throat and blood pounding in her head.

She grit her teeth and resolved to reason through her fear – her absurd, irrational fear that still held her mercilessly at sword-point, frozen in terror, even after all these years.

 _Not irrational,_ the voice in her head piped up. _Hollow_ do _hunt and eat shinigami, you know._

"Shut up," she muttered viciously. "It _is_ irrational at this point. I'm a shinigami. I'm not some helpless soul. I have zanpakutō, _shunpo_ and _kidō_ at my disposal."

 _And a fat lot of good that's going to do against a horde of hungry hollow that are drooling at the mere sight of you,_ the voice answered smartly _._

"I have a lot more experience with hollow now," Hoshi argued back. "I lived with one for three months and I survived just fine."

 _Yes, but in Soul Society. Nice, safe Seireitei, where he was completely outnumbered and alone and subjected to a shock collar to boot,_ the voice chirped happily. _Also, he's an arrancar – which means he has regained his capacity for reason and he possesses a humanoid form. Arrancar are no longer beasts and they don't need to feed. Ulquiorra is, without question, far more dangerous than your average hollow, but that's not where your particular phobia lies, is it? He doesn't count._

Damn.

She could feel her heart rate start to pick up again. And no matter how she tried to slow it back down, there was no putting up a brave front; not here, in the emptiness and the darkness, where she was alone with her thoughts.

"This isn't the first time I'm going to their world." Hoshi noticed her voice was weaker than before, and she attempted to distract herself by focusing on her feet, on keeping her steps steady as she walked. One, two. One, two. One. Two. "I've been there so frequently, it's practically my back yard."

One.

 _You have, indeed,_ the voice agreed pleasantly. _But always with – someone – else._ _Right now, you're alone. There is no one else here. There's no one else for a long, long way away. You are all alone._

Two.

Hoshi faltered as the voice in her mind finally put into words what had been at the forefront of her thoughts all along, but she had refused to acknowledge it. When your opponent was your own head, after all, you didn't have the luxury of taking uncomfortable things and stuffing them in a neat box and burying them deep, deep down, to deal with at a later, more convenient time.

She was alone.

For a split-second, she was nine again – covered in dirt and shaking and rag-clad – standing in front of wandering hollow, far-off in Rukongai.

The mountainous region had never offered shelter, its chalk-colored rocky protrusions making it impossible terrain for a child to run over. Her blood covered the ground, bright and red and vividly out of place among the earth's bones, sharp white and hostile and sticking out at all angles. The high altitude of Sakahone and the frailty of her small, underfed body had her lungs gasping for breath and her ears ringing.

But the Academy had taught her that hollow weren't the only ones who could kill.

She no longer had to feel vulnerable. She was no longer a child that had to hide, eyes tightly shut, behind a _haori_ and long white hair. The years had slowly built up Hoshi's confidence alongside her fighting skills, and now she could easily face hollow on her own in Soul Society or Karakura Town, or accompany others to Hueco Mundo and back with relatively little issue. Even Ulquiorra's presence had sufficed, despite being a hollow himself; his looks and personality and rational mind made him a completely different creature from the incoherent monsters that occasionally still rampaged through her dreams.

Right now, however, she was completely alone – and soon to be so among swarms of wild hollow, for the first time since the day she'd been taken to Seireitei by a warm, gentle hand.

The realization was crippling.

Hoshi felt the all-too familiar sensation of black pricking at the edges of her vision, and a flush stained her face. She suddenly keeled over, crouching, burning and freezing at once, her vision dimming and her breathing labored and the sick feeling of her insides needing to leak out crawling over her.

She heard a loud crack behind her.

A frantic look over her shoulder revealed the _reishi_ pathway crumbling, the disintegration of the particles spreading quickly towards her.

Hoshi's instincts kicked in and she scrambled, quickly leaping out of the way and landing on her knees further ahead. She drew a quick breath and closed her eyes, trying to get her _reiatsu_ under control. The bright path slowly steadied under her feet, and the degradation stopped a few inches short of her.

"Shit," she exhaled, leaning back on her palms. That was too close. If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't have to worry about hollow; she wouldn't even make it out of the _garganta._

Small chips at the perimeter of the pathway started falling away again, and Hoshi frowned at them, trying to focus, to somehow stabilize her flailing spiritual pressure.

A soft warmth suddenly spread from where her zanpakutō rested at her left hip. Hoshi looked down at the sword, which vibrated lightly.

_«And what am I, extra baggage?»_

A familiar voice, soothing and sarcastic at the same time, broke into her thoughts.

 _Jishinha?_ Hoshi asked in genuine surprise. She'd been so focused on staving off her panic that she had completely forgotten about him.

 _«No, this is Wabisuke, I've hijacked his gloomy body»_ he said in a grainer, slower voice, impersonating the other spirit. _«Of course it's me! I've been trying to get through to you for ages, my dear.»_ He sounded amused and slightly exasperated. A long, dramatic sigh followed. _«For such a smart, competent woman, you know, you really can be downright stupid.»_

She allowed herself a small smile. If he had been in his materialized form, he no doubt would already have wrapped his arms around her, possibly putting her in a headlock and rubbing her head mercilessly with the back of one of his clawed hands.

Her zanpakutō spirit was overconfident and self-absorbed and a tease, completely insufferable at times, but he had always been there for her.

It hadn't taken long at all after she'd acquired an Asauchi for Jishinha's voice to reach her. From the very start, he had never held anything back; his name and all his powers were hers as well, as was his company, if she so wished. Even when it came to things they didn't see eye to eye on, she knew she could always count on him to have her back.

In a way, Jishinha was her closest and dearest friend, and she had long lost count of how many hours they had spent in her inner world over the years, lying on the rocks and the sand, watching the far-off silent storms, just talking. Hearing his voice now was enough for Hoshi to break through the surface of the anxiety threatening to drown her.

The _reishi_ path she sat on was, suddenly, as perfectly formed as ever.

How could she have ever thought she was alone?

"I know," Hoshi said quietly, gently grasping the sword's hilt and standing up. "Thanks, Jishinha."

 _«Anytime, Hoshi dear. You know I'm always around. Now, if you could only find a way in that pretty, convoluted head of yours to remember that… »_ His reprimand, as always, was delivered in wry, teasing tones.

Hoshi left both of her hands to rest on the sword, palms still clammy and wet, as she started walking again. The action was not lost on Jishinha, if the continued warmth near her hip and pleased stirring in her mind were any indication.

Somehow, and without further incident, she made it to the end of the passageway.

Hopping out and quickly ducking behind the first large mound of rubble she saw, Hoshi closed her eyes.

_Step one: conceal spiritual pressure._

She suppressed her _reiatsu_ successfully until only the barest dregs were discernable. Even an espada would have to be relatively nearby to sense her. Done.

Her panic, already tempered by Jishinha, was steadily subsiding as she followed the standard protocol for scouting missions and automatically went through the familiar steps.

_Step two: assess surroundings._

Slate-blue eyes quickly darted around the debris that surrounded her and landed on the deep purple door to her right, nestled in a barely-standing wall of bright green. It was massive, gaudy, and immediately recognizable. She had been through it enough times over the past half a year that she was thoroughly sick of the sight.

 _Of course,_ Hoshi thought, shaking her head slightly at the Twelfth Division's captain, despite the fact that he was a whole dimension away. _Of course he has a_ garganta _locked on to the coordinates of Szayel Aporro's laboratory._

She was loathe to admit it, but she was very grateful for Kurotsuchi's peculiarities at the moment, as she now had a vague idea of where she was in the massive maze of Las Noches.

_Step three: investigate._

Hoshi had resolved, sometime during her trek through the _garganta_ that she would look for Harribel, rather than go poking about in unknown territory by herself.

Captain Kuchiki had suggested that she look around on her own first, and only seek out the espada if circumstances were favorable; but the captain had never met Harribel. Hoshi had seen her once, briefly, the day that Aizen was captured, and the memory was more than enough to convince the shinigami that she'd be better off in the Tres Espada's company than out here alone, running into all sorts of monstrosities.

The problem was that Harribel's spiritual pressure had been practically depleted at the time, even after Inoue had healed her, and so Hoshi only had the vaguest notion of what the _reiatsu_ of Hueco Mundo's current ruler felt like. If she had been in a smaller or a more familiar place, she could have probably pinpointed it fairly confidently. Here, however…

Brushing wavy hair out of her eyes and hiking her _hakama_ up, Hoshi climbed her way out of the crater surrounding the lab – a result of Kurotsuchi's battle with the hollow scientist. That was one fight she had been thankful she'd missed; between the state of the battlefield, and Renji and Ishida's horrified looks and adamant refusal to speak on the matter, she had decided she already knew as much as she cared to.

Finally reaching the rim, she stood up and looked around.

Vast expanses of sand spread out in every direction, the sun-drenched desert landscape broken up here and there by various pillars and buildings. She was under the dome of Las Noches, that much was certain. But there was no obvious indication as to where she should go from here.

The simplest thing would be to ask for directions, honestly, were she to find someone. Whether she _wanted_ to find someone or not, however, Hoshi had yet to decide.

But she couldn't stay here forever.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep, meditative breath, she cast her senses forth and concentrated.

Hoshi could feel several mild _reiatsu_ meandering all around, all somewhat sluggish and quite distant from her. The weak flickering of their emissions most likely indicated that they ranked somewhere far below gillian. Even if she did seek them out, there was a high chance these were underdeveloped creatures and wouldn't be able to answer her questions – incapable of speech, incapable of understanding her, mute and dumb and lumbering around with their split nails and open, drooling mouths and jagged teeth and –

She shuddered, willing her thoughts to stop in their tracks. She would _not_ think about _that_.

Hoshi began reeling her awareness back in as evenly as she could, doing her best to remain focused and unaffected, when her senses hit a snag. Her eyes shot open.

There was one spiritual signature extremely close by.

It felt almost languid; a slow, steady pulse of blue, beating in the silence. The _reiatsu_ was far calmer than she would have ever expected, which was probably why she hadn't recognized it immediately, but now that it had caught her attention, it was unmistakable.

Hoshi frowned and worried a full bottom lip between her teeth.

She stared off in the direction that Grimmjow seemed to be in.

Did she even want to go over there? On the one hand, he _did_ still owe her – she'd be more than happy to take payment in the form of a quick guided tour, allowing her to complete her mission and call it a day. Stray hollow would certainly not be an issue with the Sexta espada around. On the other hand, Hoshi was in his territory now, and making him aware of her presence might not be in her best interests; plus, she seriously doubted he'd consider giving her directions a decent payback.

She waffled back and forth for a moment, weighing her options carefully, before deciding that, ultimately, anything was better than waiting out here in the open for a random and probably starving hollow to find her.

Mind made up, Hoshi flash-stepped quietly across the warm sand, navigating around all the broken pieces of stone that littered the whole place. She had to wonder, how much of this destruction was caused by regular clashing between the hollow living here? How much of it was due to the Shinigami Invasion?

 _And how much of it is just Grimmjow himself?_ A half-smile graced her lips. A good deal, she was willing to bet.

Soon, a large building came into view, with several of those massive red pillars surrounding it.

As Hoshi drew closer, Grimmjow's _reiatsu_ grew in intensity until she could practically feel it on her skin. Yet, it was not unstable. And its contact with her was not painful in the slightest either, she realized as she rubbed a few fingers up and down one arm.

She paused – no, it wasn't his _reiatsu,_ not exactly; he wasn't exerting spiritual pressure at all. This was just the natural emission of his _reiryoku_ – not suppressed, not amplified – and he simply wasn't making an effort to direct it in any way, letting it drift around indifferently. By all accounts, she should have been thrilled; he was evidently in an unusually mellow mood. But the effect of experiencing his unfiltered spiritual energy head-on for the first time was nothing short of dazzling.

Expecting to see stars in her field of vision at any moment, she continued towards him at a slower, more careful pace.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hoshi stopped again.

The faint sound of something, small and hard, hitting against a surface repeatedly reached her ears.

Her resolve wavered for a moment at the unexpected noise, as she tried to decipher its source. Racking her brain and coming up blank, she started moving again, with even lighter, more hesitant steps.

Tap. Tap.

It was definitely coming from Grimmjow's direction. The tapping got louder with each passing moment as she approached.

Tap. Tap.

Hoshi frowned, now equally apprehensive and curious. _What the hell_ is _that?_

Tap.

Making her way around a corner, one hand trailing along the stone wall, she finally found him.

Grimmjow was sitting against one of the pillars, eyes almost closed and one arm folded behind his head. His shocking blue hair stood out in sharp contrast with the red stone it rested on. Any further observations were abruptly cut off, as Hoshi caught a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye.

A little red ball bounced off of the wall facing Grimmjow. He caught it, lazily raised his hand, and tossed it. The cycle repeated.

That explained the tapping. It was no wonder she'd heard it from as far away as she did – the force with which he was throwing the ball was enough to leave little dents and cracks in the wall as it rebounded.

Hoshi had never seen the espada so relaxed. The customary lines surrounding his brows and eyes were all smoothed out, his mouth was devoid of any grin or scowl, and his limbs were sprawled out on the desert floor. The bright color of his eyes was barely visible under his lowered lashes. Happening upon him during such a private moment, Hoshi found herself reluctantly admitting, once again, that he really was incredibly good-looking. All the more so when he was being so _quiet._

A thoroughly disturbing realization, considering the fact that he was, after all, a hollow.

She slapped herself.

 _«And he's a fellow blue-hair, too.»_ Jishinha's teasing voice invaded her thoughts, continuing their unfinished conversation from several days ago, which had been prompted by the sight of Grimmjow drenched and without his jacket. Hoshi had firmly put an end to it, mentally stomping on Jishinha until he'd retreated from her head, and had stubbornly refused to talk to him until they'd reached Soul Society. She could actually see the wicked glint in his midnight-blue eyes as he continued now. « _Have I yet mentioned that I approve?»_

Hoshi shook her head and raised a hand, as though batting away a fly.

Jishinha had no end of commentary when it came to the Sexta Espada, and he'd nearly laughed himself stupid after their last encounter. He had found her behavior that day in particular to be extremely entertaining. First Captain Kuchiki, now this – he knew _exactly_ how uncomfortable this kind of teasing made her. She really wished he'd lay off and find a different hobby.

 _No one asked you, birdbrain,_ she retorted. _Go away._

Jishinha snickered, but withdrew from her mind all the same.

Once she was confident that her thoughts were her own again, Hoshi took a deep breath and walked over to the hollow lounging in the sun.

"You really weren't kidding."

Grimmjow's eyes burst open and he violently pushed himself off of the pillar, whipping around to where the voice had come from, ready to go in for an attack – the bastard that had somehow crept up on him wouldn't fucking live to regret it!

The momentum of his lunge, however, was interrupted by a strong, blunt pain on his left cheek. The little ball he had thrown just prior to being startled had bounced off of the opposite wall and had already returned to him, its impact sending him flying backwards.

"Ugh!" Grimmjow groaned, face-down in the sand.

A soft snort, quickly stifled, made him look up.

The shinigami – of all freakin' people! – was standing there, her lips pressed tightly in a line and one hand coming up to cover her mouth.

"What the fuck?! How'd you get here?!" Grimmjow shouted, pulling himself up on one knee and rubbing his cheek. His actions were forceful and deliberate, concealing just how shaken up he was.

He hadn't noticed her. At all. There was no fucking way she was that good with her _reiatsu._ Were his senses dulling? _Tch._ He had known the lack of decent fights would catch up to him somehow. And the whole thing with the ball was just fucking humiliating. _Shit._ How long had she been watching?

"Through a _garganta,_ " she deadpanned.

Lucky for her, she seemed to have gotten over her small laughing fit; otherwise he'd be elbow-deep in her dripping guts right now. He'd been ready to sink his teeth in her throat and tear it out when he'd jumped up, and the only thing that had saved her ass was that freakin' ball knocking him clean off his feet.

"No shit, I thought you flew here," Grimmjow spat out.

He stood up fully and proceeded to scowl at her. Last time he'd seen her, she'd left him cold and miserable and wet from all that fucking disgusting rain. When he had gone back to the living world a few days later, it turned out she'd fucked off and a new round of shinigami were patrolling in her place – or so he'd gathered from overhearing them. And now she was prancing around in _his_ world, as though she had every right to be here.

_Why the hell is she here, anyway?_

The shinigami crossed her arms over her chest and looked off to the side, an unreadable expression darkening her features. "I'm here on some unofficial Soul Society business. I need to speak with Harribel." She turned to face him again, her eyes not quite meeting his. "Do you know where she is?"

"What about?" he asked, his green-lined eyes narrowing suspiciously.

She shifted uncomfortably, from one foot to the other. "Nothing much," she said quietly. "But I am supposed to talk to Harribel directly."

Grimmjow cast his eyes over her. It might have just been the bright sunlight of the dome, but he thought she looked paler than usual. Fidgety, too.

He made a dismissive noise. "Probably at her palace. That way." The Sexta Espada pointed a finger vaguely to his left.

The shinigami followed the direction with her eyes. She nodded, and without a word turned to go.

Dragging his eyes away from her retreating back, Grimmjow sat back down in his spot, head resting against the column and knees raised up. He plucked the small red ball from the sand beside him, turning it a few times between his fingers, before resuming his previous game.

 _Whatever,_ he bristled. The ball hit the wall with a loud 'crack' and came rocketing back to him. _'Business' with Harribel._ Another vicious launch, impact, and return. _She thinks_ I _don't need to know what's going on?_ Several stone chips flew out of the wall this time. _Tch. Well, I don't even_ care! _And if she thinks she can just fucking stroll in here whenever, like the rest of those shinigami bastards, then she can fucking get herself eaten!_

His resolve lasted all of a minute.

Curiosity got his legs moving – because it _was_ curiosity; it wasn't jealousy or some shit at being ignored like this, in favor of some fucking espada she didn't even know – and the small ball bounced off the wall one last time and landed in the sand behind him, forgotten.

He quickly caught up to her. "Yo, dipshit! Wait up!"

Her only response was a brief flash of blue-grey eyes at him over her shoulder. She didn't even slow her pace down.

Grimmjow frowned. Something was off.

He gave the air around her a thorough sniffing as he gained on her.

She smelled overwhelmingly of sweat and that cold, metallic tang of fear that he found so damn tantalizing in small amounts in his prey – like when his quarry, after putting up a fight, realized that his power was far greater than theirs, that there was no escape, and panic started bleeding into their eyes.

Hers was all wrong, though. It was coming off of her in waves, in that overwhelming stench that was completely repulsive and belonged to weak, pathetic excuses that weren't worth his time. It was recent, too. Observing her now from up close, it was easy to see that her jaw was clenched and her hands were rigid, gripping her sword tightly.

"First time here alone, huh?" he asked, falling into step next to her.

He was rewarded with a bewildered stare that quickly narrowed to something more guarded. She looked away.

"And what if it is?" The shinigami's response was biting and unfriendly.

Grimmjow grinned widely. His instincts had been right – she was fucking terrified. As she should be. Hueco Mundo was a hostile environment to its inhabitants, let alone anyone stupid enough to 'visit.'

There had never been a better chance to mess with her.

"Eh?" He pulled his lips even further back, exposing sharp teeth that blinked in the sun. "What happened to your backbone?"

"It's where it belongs, supporting my skeleton and protecting my spinal cord," the shinigami shot back. Her voice was forced. The loose hair of her bangs bounced around her face, as she continued to stomp off, lips drawn and hands clenched, trying to get away from him.

Grimmjow let his smirk slowly turn into something more predatory. Her efforts at faking confidence were so pathetically ineffective it was downright fucking cute.

He felt compelled to point this out to her.

"You know, your smartass remarks don't really do much when you're about to piss your pants," he said casually, with amusement dancing all over his face.

She stopped walking and spun towards him, glaring. "I'm _not!_ " she snapped, her hands flying down to her sides to form clenched fists.

"Good, 'cause while most hollow here can't sense your _reiatsu_ suppressed like that, you still smell like shinigami. _Like dinner."_ Grimmjow let the last bit drag out on his tongue, dipping his head down until his face was near hers. "They can smell your scent a mile off. Higher-level hollow like adjuchas can do ten, maybe twelve miles. The urine would just bring 'em all running."

The shinigami pulled her head back from him, her animated eyes darting between his own. She frowned, her eyebrows settling in a strong, almost straight line – she was probably calculating just how much of that statement to believe. Grimmjow continued grinning. He may have exaggerated the distances a little, but she'd never know; he'd just let her worry her little head off.

She turned her face away from him, and folded her arms again. "You're just upset that you didn't realize I was there," she huffed out. "For all your talk, your sensing abilities suck ass."

As soon as the words left her mouth, both of her hands shot up to slap loudly over her mouth. From the grimace on her face, it looked like she'd actually bitten down on her tongue.

Grimmjow's eyes widened a fraction, and then settled back into their usual, lazy slant. He let out a low chuckle. _Nerves loosen her tongue, huh? Interesting. Looks like she still has some fight left in her, too, though she's scared shitless._

Well, wasn't that just fucking admirable? She had a point, though – his sensing abilities were some of the sharpest among the espada, but this was the second time she'd caught him off guard. He had never treated her as a serious opponent; more like some small-time prey he could just fuck around with absentmindedly until the fun wore out.

 _Maybe that's the problem,_ he thought grudgingly. _Maybe I've been underestimating her a little._

He decided that he'd kick it up a notch. Starting now. He'd show her just how much she _didn't_ have him figured out.

"You forgotten you're here alone, Shinigami?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets and frowning at her. "Should you really talk like that?"

As he expected, the shinigami stared up at him in total shock, eyes all white and mouth slack. She'd probably been waiting for him to rip her head off.

The fact that he'd thrown her off balance was oddly satisfying, and he let the feeling of contentment seep over him, even though he could have sworn he heard a muttered 'confusing bastard' uttered from her lips.

"No," she finally answered when she found her voice. She cleared her throat. "You're absolutely right, I really shouldn't." With that, she started walking again, her attention directed forward.

Grimmjow raised a short, blue eyebrow as he followed. _Not gonna apologize this time? Heh. Fine, bitch._

"I thought only arrancar lived in Las Noches," she said hesitantly, over her shoulder.

"Mm. So?" he asked disinterestedly at the unexpected question.

She slowed down, matching his unhurried pace. "So what's with all the low-level _reiatsu_ I'm sensing?"

"Oh, that," Grimmjow said, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "Szayel's experiments. A bunch got loose when the lab was destroyed during that idiot's fight. We've cleaned most of them up, but there's still some lurking around. Tch. Like I'm gonna go out of my way to kill the likes of them."

He had to suppress the involuntary shudder that suddenly crept up his spine. Fucking creeps. It wasn't so much killing them, as it was putting them out of their misery. He'd pass.

The shinigami's brows creased together in a worried frown. "Experiments?" she asked, clearly not sure she wanted to know.

"Yeah. Pretty damn weak for hollow, but they're fucked up. Real bad," he said quietly, before turning to her and grinning. "Good thing it was me you bumped into."

She narrowed her eyes at him, probably wondering whether he was just messing with her again. He wished he could make up half the shit that he'd seen come out of that pink freak-show's lab.

"How's your _shunpo_ over long distance?" Grimmjow asked abruptly, changing the subject. He scanned the empty horizon ahead. It'd take for fucking ever to get to Harribel's if they just kept walking.

She shrugged. "I think it's pretty good, but Ulquiorra says it's slow compared to his _sonído._ Why? Is Harribel's palace that far?"

"It's on the other side of this arena," he replied, looking down at her. He cocked his head to one side and ran his eyes over her. She couldn't weigh more than, what, a hundred twenty, a hundred thirty pounds? Piece of cake.

She frowned again, turning to gaze at the seemingly infinite stretch of sand and bright blue sky. "Then how –"

Whatever question she'd been about to ask was cut short by the feel of Grimmjow's hand placing itself over the back of her head, and gripping tightly.

He buried his fingertips in her hair.

"Hang on," he smirked, amusement glinting in his sharp eyes.

Her hands shot up and grabbed on to his arm, to try and pry it off, but her violent protest of 'Don't you dare!' was lost in the wind as Grimmjow propelled them both forward across the sunlit sand at breakneck speed.

* * *

 

Tier Harribel sat in the cool shade of her room, a refuge from the unnatural and bright sunlight beating down at all hours outside.

There had been a rare lull in the day between her duties, and she had taken the opportunity to retire to her palace to rest and do some reading, but it seemed that the blissful quiet was not meant to last. She had sensed the surging blue _reiatsu_ speeding her way long before it came to a screeching halt at her doorstep.

With a silent sigh, she closed her eyes. _Grimmjow._

Her bone mask abruptly brushed the high collar of her shirt as her head tilted back in surprise – he was not alone.

 _A shinigami?_ Tier evaluated the faint spiritual pressure.

Yes, it was fiercely suppressed, but it most certainly belonged to a shinigami. Since when did Grimmjow keep their company, rather than murder them on sight?

She stood up from her chair, closing her book and placing it on the table nearby, and went over to the large window facing the front of her estate. The view to the porch below was blocked by the large balcony adjoining her room, but she could hear the voices drifting up.

"You really couldn't find somewhere else to grab hold of?!" a female voice demanded, irritated.

"Quit your bitching, would you? You survived." The familiar voice of the blue-haired arrancar was as coarse and ill-spoken as ever.

Not a moment later, there was the sound of the large, heavy front doors being forced open and Grimmjow's loud voice echoed inside the building.

"Oi, Harribel!"

Resigned to her fate of dealing with whatever trouble Grimmjow had brought with him this time, blonde braids swishing over her shoulders, she left her room to make her way downstairs.

The sound of energetic bare feet flying quickly across the marble tiles of the front hall reached her ears.

"What's your problem, bastard?! Haven't heard of knocking?!"

Coming to the balustrade, Tier looked over and saw that Apacci had been the first to accost their visitors.

Her short, fiery fracción had flung herself against the door panel, fruitlessly attempting to slam it shut in the Sexta Espada's face. She held her own as best as she could against his strength, and, despite her smaller stature, effectively stalled his progress.

"I'll show you knocking! Open the fucking door!" Grimmjow shoved the door from the outside with his shoulder, anger and impatience lacing his voice.

Apacci started losing ground, her feet sliding over the slippery marble. The small female turned around and tried pushing back with her upper body, her knees and legs straining.

Dark-skinned hands fell next to Apacci's shoulders, and the door stopped moving again.

"Grimmjow! You can't just barge in here whenever you want! Harribel-sama doesn't have time for you and your damn annoying attitude!" Mila Rose shouted.

"She can fucking make time!" he shouted right back. One of his arms shot through the opening, and started clawing at the air.

"I swear, we need to put a barrier up," Mila Rose muttered, head facing down between her outstretched arms.

Apacci made a noise in agreement, still throwing her full weight on the door.

"Would you please stop this, you two?" Sung-Sun asked.

She had been standing off to the side the whole time, silently observing the chaos. Tier suspected that the sharp ears of her quietest fracción, like her own, had caught the mildly amused 'I take it this happens often?' that had been spoken by an unfamiliar, invisible female voice.

"I know you cannot help your low intelligence," she continued, "but could you at least correctly assess the situation before jumping to conclusions and acting so unseemly?"

"Sung-Sun, you bitch!" Apacci yelled, momentarily shifting her weight and losing her purchase on the metal surface.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mila Rose snapped, looking at her long-haired companion, her attention diverted.

The door burst open fully and the two female arrancar went flying back, landing at the foot of the large staircase that Tier was currently descending.

Grimmjow stood in the entryway, looking ready to murder them. A shinigami woman stood slightly behind him.

"Merely that he's not alone," Sung-Sun answered, mouth hidden behind one sleeve, while the other hand pointed in the shinigami's direction.

Mila Rose and Apacci blinked, lost in a daze for a brief moment, before bolting up. Their faces were enraged. "A shinigami?! Grimmjow, you –"

"Enough, Mila Rose, Apacci," Tier said in a quiet voice, as she joined them.

"Harribel-sama!" Her fracción quickly turned to face her and bowed, leaving off their arguing.

All three hovered close to her, no doubt ready to spring to action to defend her if the shinigami proved to be hostile. For all their brashness and bickering, they were truly dependable and loyal and the most valuable companions Tier could ask for. She would not trade them for the world.

The blonde espada turned her attention to Grimmjow and their visitor. Her narrowed eyes hovering above her collar were the only indication that she awaited an explanation from him.

He met her gaze directly. "She says she's been sent by Soul Society. Wants to talk to you," he said, sounding bored. His bright blue eyes wandered to his right, where the shinigami stood.

Tier regarded the woman from behind thick, golden lashes.

She appeared to be quite young, of average height and weight, with a fairly high level of _reiatsu_ that she kept firmly suppressed. She was at the very most a lieutenant, though Tier suspected she ranked just below; but her control over her spiritual energy emission was impressive for her class. A prudent move, as well, eliminating one of two ways that hollow could detect her presence. Her soft features were stiff, and the fear that she schooled off of her face was plain for any self-respecting hollow to smell. There was no means of tempering her scent, however, other than to stop the emotion itself.

But there was nothing wrong with feeling fear. Fear was natural.

The blonde arrancar also thought she sensed a strange tinge to the woman's _reiatsu,_ something that, if she closed her eyes, almost looked like Grimmjow's blue aura, but the shinigami had her spiritual pressure so subdued it was difficult to tell.

She shook her head slightly. She was imagining things. It was the effect of the woman standing so close to him that their _reiatsu_ were blending. Nothing more.

Tier's voice was low and clear, despite having to pass through a layer of thick fabric. "What is your business here, Shinigami?"

The woman took a deep, steadying breath.

"I am here on behalf of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute," she began. "Their monitors have picked up the complete disappearance of several hollow souls, and they sent me here to investigate." Her eyes never left the Tres Espada's face, no doubt waiting for the taller woman's reaction.

Tier said nothing at first, letting a heavy silence settle in the air.

"So," she finally stated, pinning the shinigami with her most withering look. "Your captains did install surveillance."

The shinigami had the decency to look somewhat abashed. Her eyes fell to the floor between them, as she nodded in affirmation. There had been a curious glint in their blue-grey depths, though, before she'd cast them down – perhaps wondering if this situation had all been a set-up by Hueco Mundo's ruler, to determine the extent of Soul Society's intrusion into their world.

 _Perceptive,_ Tier thought, observing the peach-haired woman.

The blonde espada wished that she could plead guilty of such a scheme.

As it was, she was thoroughly confounded herself, and beginning to be more than a little concerned.

Word had reached her from her scouts stationed in Underground Outposts Twenty-Three, Twenty-Nine, and Thirty-Five, of several hollow aboveground going missing. They had reported that they had felt a handful of spiritual energies of low-level hollow vanish completely; two arrancar that had ventured out into the desert to investigate had disappeared as well.

A troubling situation already, but it was the distinction between arrancar versus simple hollow that bothered her the most.

She had interrogated the bird-masked messenger about this until his tongue went dry – the missing arrancar's spiritual energies never vanished, unlike those of their full-masked brethren; they simply seemed to have moved out of sensing range. Tier had not had the opportunity to go and investigate herself, and her scouts maintained that there was nothing to see. There had been no evidence – a struggle, discarded weapons, or anything else – to indicate the cause of the disappearances. It was as though the desert had swallowed them up.

"Yes," Tier stated, drawing the shinigami's attention to herself once more. It appeared as though Soul Society was only aware of the vanishing _reiatsu,_ and not the missing arrancar. She saw no reason to volunteer this information. "Hollow have indeed been disappearing, according to reports I have received from the arrancar stationed in the outposts around Las Noches. I am surprised the shinigami have taken an interest in our affairs."

"What?!" Grimmjow interrupted before the shinigami could reply. "When did this happen?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"We did tell you!" Apacci exclaimed, jutting her head out aggressively. "At the meeting three days ago! You just weren't paying attention, as always!"

Mila Rose whacked the back of her head and pointed towards Tier, as Apacci opened her mouth to yell at her too. The short-haired arrancar was promptly silenced with a single look.

The Tres Espada motioned to the shinigami to speak.

"My superiors are concerned that if this continues, the spiritual balance between our worlds could possibly collapse," the woman explained. "The resulting discrepancy in the number of souls would be devastating not only to the living world and Soul Society, but Hueco Mundo as well."

"I see," Tier replied. "A valid concern. I have no information to offer, however. There have been no traces left behind to indicate what happened to the missing hollow or to reveal the nature of their attackers."

The shinigami's face darkened. "So, you do think they're being attacked? There is no chance that it's something like a disease, an epidemic that's starting to spread among hollow?" she asked.

Hueco Mundo's ruler frowned. "No. There is nothing in our history to suggest that line of thinking. We do suffer our own brand of illnesses, just as any other race, but to vanish entirely with no remnants of one's _reiryoku?_ " She gave a marginal shake of her head. "Hollow do not cease existing without an exterior cause."

The shinigami nodded slowly, turning the information over in her mind. "I have been given five hours to look around before Soul Society opens the _garganta_ again for me, at my point of entry near the former Octava Espada's lab. I thought I should seek out your permission before doing so."

Tier blinked.

This was not behavior she was accustomed to expect from shinigami, though her personal experience with them had been limited to their captain-class officers. Perhaps arrogance came with rank. It was quite likely that the girl before her was simply attempting to increase her chances of survival here; a goal that Tier herself was painfully familiar with.

"I appreciate your candor," she said, the words streaming out from behind her bone mask unhindered. "Five hours, however, is nowhere nearly enough to reach the general vicinity of the incidents. It is a journey of several days, at the least."

The shinigami's expression changed – several emotions flickered through her eyes, as her lips parted slightly and a subdued air overtook her. Was she concerned about disappointing her superiors?

In other times, the Tres Espada would have left it at that. A shinigami's concerns were none of hers, and the fewer the dealings between two races of such opposing purposes and ideologies, the better. But the world had changed significantly ever since last winter, and she now had a vested interest in keeping the peace with Soul Society. And this girl had been remarkably inoffensive.

Tier's expression softened a little. "But I can offer this: all of the outposts are fully equipped with cameras that output their recordings directly to the control room located in the Third Tower. I have been meaning to sift through the exterior footage from the three locations that reported the incidents. You may join me, if you so wish."

The girl's eyes lit up with cautious optimism. "I would be greatly indebted to you, Harribel-sama," she said with an inclination of her head.

Tier noted that, while an unquestionable show of respect, the degree to which the shinigami tilted her head down also afforded her full peripheral vision of herself and the other arrancar.

The blonde espada's eyes lightly crinkled at the edges, as she hid a small smile behind her high collar. The girl had spirit. And a level head. If she had been born a hollow, she could have very well been one of them.

"Follow me," Tier said, turning to head down the passageway that linked her estate with the main body of Las Noches.

Multiple feet shuffled, and a grumble issued from Apacci about Harribel-sama having to waste her time on a shinigami. Tier turned her head a fraction over her shoulder, and all protests ceased.

"And where are you going?" Mila Rose asked Grimmjow from somewhere behind Tier's back, as the group started moving.

"Where do you think, piss-face?" he replied with his customary eloquence. "I'm coming with you."

"Oh, no, you're not!" It sounded as though Apacci had grabbed him by the arm. "It's bad enough we've got a shinigami to deal with – you aren't invited, asshole!"

"Tch, the hell I'm not!" Grimmjow snapped back, slapping her hand away. He resumed walking. "First you don't tell me shit about what goes on, and now you think I need your fucking permission. You're forgetting – I'm the king!"

Tier heard two small sighs exhaled from either side of her, from both the shinigami and Sung-Sun.

"As if we ever could," Sung-Sun muttered under her breath.

Tier closed her eyes.

Quiet, indeed, was all too fleeting.

* * *

 

"Grimmjow. Please escort the shinigami back to her _garganta,_ " Harribel said, as they all walked out of the dark control room.

Hoshi had spent a little upwards of three hours scanning the screens, but the footage had yielded absolutely nothing. It had just been minutes upon minutes of empty desert, dark sky and the occasional wind stirring up the dunes. There hadn't been a single hollow in sight, arrancar or otherwise.

There wasn't much that she could do about the situation, however. She would simply have to tell Kurotsuchi that they needed a larger time-frame… and a larger group. Because she was _not_ doing this again.

"Thank you, Harribel-sama," Hoshi said, bowing to the blonde arrancar.

The female hollow had made this utter nightmare of a mission significantly more tolerable, with her calm nature and firm authority. Panic was still stubbornly holding on to Hoshi with a couple of long, cold fingers, but it was nowhere near the frenzy her apprehension had sent her in.

"Huh? Why me?" Grimmjow turned his head to regard the other espada lazily.

Harribel simply stared at him, before turning her back and walking away, her fracción following after her.

"Gah! I ain't your fucking lapdog, Harribel!" he yelled down the hall.

Receiving no reaction from the females, he stalked off in the opposite direction. Despite his declaration, Hoshi noticed that he was heading for the exit to the sunlit arena all the same

She trotted after him.

Still clearly fuming over the perceived injustice, Grimmjow's eyes briefly flickered down to her, once the pair of them stood outside in the bright light, before his hand came up and grabbed her neck. Without a word, they went speeding across the sand again.

Arriving at the lab, Hoshi picked her way down the ridiculously deep crater, heading for the large, showy doors.

Grimmjow, apparently having nothing better to do, followed her. He leaned on one shoulder against a tall, upright stone, observing her through lowered lashes, while she paced impatiently in a small circle.

Finally plopping down on a rock, Hoshi stared at the empty space next to the lab doors with a slight frown, starting to worry. She checked the time on her mobile device that Kurotsuchi had modified to work in Hueco Mundo for direct communication with both Soul Society and the living world. The _denreishinki_ displayed the correct time. They were five minutes late.

There was no _garganta._

"You sure you got the right time and place?" Grimmjow asked, raising his brows.

Hoshi nodded fervently, keeping her eyes trained on the designated spot. "Positive." There was absolutely no way she would miscalculate her one way out of here.

"Maybe they forgot about you," he offered with a sharp grin.

She turned her head to glare at him, bangs whipping across her eyes, and then sighed.

"You have no idea how very possible that is," Hoshi muttered, all too familiar with the way Kurotsuchi got distracted from the things he was _supposed_ to be doing, but that no longer held his interest.

Still, he wasn't the only one monitoring this mission. Akon was there. Akon wouldn't have forgotten about her. Would he?

She let out another sigh, deeper this time, and slouched over, letting her chin rest on her palm.

A silence settled over the area, becoming more fraught with tension with each passing moment.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hoshi saw that Grimmjow had taken to examining his nails. Her own finger pushed the light-up button on the communicator. They were now ten minutes late.

_That's it, I'm going home myself._

Determined not to spend a single moment more than she absolutely had to in this forsaken place, she stood up and turned to face her espada chaperone.

"How come she gets a '-sama?'" Grimmjow blurted out suddenly, a deep frown on his face.

Hoshi blinked at him, her previous train of thought totally derailed. "I… what?" _What the hell is he talking about?_

"Harribel. You called her 'Harribel-sama,' and you don't even know her. How come I don't get any of that shit? I haven't even gotten a fucking '-san' from you," he complained, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Seriously?" she asked in a flat voice. _That_ was what was bugging him right now? For starters, Hoshi didn't think she'd ever addressed him by name yet, so where would she tag on an honorific? And secondly, she had bigger issues at the moment than to deal with his surprisingly fragile ego. She sighed again, completely ignoring his question. "Just open a _garganta_ for me, would you?"

"Oh, so _now_ you need me," he said, pushing himself off of the piece of broken wall, one arm lazily draped over his sword.

Hoshi let out a small puff of air. "Look, I want to leave just as much as you want me gone. So the sooner you open a passageway for me, the sooner I'll be out of your hair and you can go back to batting your little ball around," she stated, holding her eyes tightly closed in an effort to muster patience.

"Shut up!" Grimmjow shouted, taking a few steps forward. "It was training!"

"Oh, really?" Her growing frustration made her easy prey for the rising urge to tease him. "So you weren't just bored out of your mind?"

"I was working on my reflexes!" he insisted even louder.

She just smirked and hid her face away.

"Okay, okay," Hoshi said reassuringly, yet in a tone that made sure to indicate she remained unconvinced. "Now will you open it? _Please?"_

Seemingly pacified enough by the polite amendment to her request – though still mumbling under his breath about 'fucking Shinigami' – Grimmjow lifted his index finger and pointed it at the air in front of her, like she'd seen Ulquiorra do on several occasions.

The space before her remained undistorted.

"Very funny," Hoshi said, irritated but with a tinge of apprehension starting to color her voice. "Open it for real."

"It is for fucking real," Grimmjow said, stunned. He tried again, with the same result: nothing. "It's not opening."

She swirled on him, all of her previous anxiety swelling and crashing down on her in full force. "What?!" she yelled. "How is that possible?!"

Grimmjow gave up on his efforts, instead turning to shout at her. "I don't know, dumbass! Otherwise I'd open it, wouldn't I?!"

Hoshi tried to ignore the very evident edge, under all the anger and confusion, that was seeping into his voice. It sounded suspiciously like fear.

"Maybe you're not doing it right," she tried to reason.

Her blatantly unreasonable statement earned her a single threatening look. "I know how to open a fucking _garganta!"_ Grimmjow looked down at his hands, examining them closely.

"Maybe something's wrong with your powers," Hoshi suggested, terror rising. She glanced over her shoulder at the hazy horizon in the distance. "Maybe Harribel –"

A pair of cool hands roughly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "I told you, it's not my freakin' powers! If I can't do it, chances are Harribel can't either."

Hoshi broke free and fumbled with the bag flung over her shoulder, desperately searching for her _denreishinki_. Ignoring Grimmjow, who was attempting, once more, to force a _garganta_ open, she dialed the number of the Research and Development Institute.

There was no response. Their phone didn't even ring.

 _It's okay,_ she told herself, hanging up and pressing the device to her lips in thought. _It's fine. No big deal. Deep breath. Maybe Soul Society is having reception issues. Try someone else._

Immediately, she snapped the device open again and called the Urahara Shop.

Also no response.

The overwhelming hollow silence in her ear prompted her to remove the _denreishinki_ from near her face and to look down at the icons on its screen.

There was no signal.

 _… What?!_ Thoughts raced through Hoshi's head in quick succession, as her breathing grew labored. _Is it malfunctioning? Did Kurotsuchi make a mistake when synchronizing it to Hueco Mundo? No… no, that's not possible, I'm certain we tested it on one of our outings here. D-didn't we?_

Another glance down at the bright screen told her that it was now twenty minutes past her deadline. She raised her eyes to the espada.

"Take me back to Harribel," she demanded.

The hollow let out a hiss of impatience. "I already told you –"

"Now!"

Grimmjow stared at her for a long moment. Something in her burning eyes must have caught his attention, because, with a colorful string of curses, he marched up to her, grabbed her upper arm unceremoniously, and did as she requested.

The journey that had seemed long enough before now felt as though it dragged on forever and Hoshi's feet touched down on the porch of Harribel's estate a veritable eternity later.

She fell against one of the door panels with her full strength, forcing it to budge open, while Grimmjow easily pushed the other aside with one hand.

"You again?!" An irritated voice greeted them from the upstairs floor as Hoshi stumbled in, but she was too far gone with panic to note who it belonged to.

The four female arrancar were gathered around the balustrade, looking down at them.

"Open up a _garganta,_ " Grimmjow ordered from beside her.

The tall fracción with the dark skin leaned over the stone railing. "What the hell are –"

"Just fucking do it!" he growled, ignoring the rest of them and focusing on Harribel.

The blonde espada looked from Grimmjow to Hoshi and back, and, after a moment, silently obliged.

Hoshi held her breath, her heart pounding, as she looked at the middle of the entrance hall where Harribel pointed her finger.

Nothing happened.

A buzzing filled her ears.

She could vaguely hear the outburst of several voices over the stifling sound of her heavy breathing, her throbbing pulse, and the rushing of blood to her head. A sharp pain started spasming in her chest. The words being exchanged by the hollow were too garbled for her to make out.

A deeper voice reached her from somewhere very close to her ear, and she barely registered the cool breath grazing her skin through the haze that had settled over her.

"Well, Shinigami… looks like you're stuck here."


	9. Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really was the simplest of missions: find the Shinigami Substitute and bring him back to the living world. So, how, exactly, had her life ended up like this? Follows the adventures of Hoshi Utagawa, Third Seat of the Sixth Division, from the end of the Arrancar Arc onward. Story will be primarily Grimmjow/OC and Ulquiorra/Orihime, but a little bit of everyone will be present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, even though I uploaded this fic on here fairly recently, it's been almost a year and a half since I've written for it *facepalm* My life got kinda nuts (I ditched grad school, completely changed careers, moved places, started my own business, got a second job, and somehow ended up with lots of duties at the dojo where I train); and then the Bleach ending happened and, even though it ultimately doesn't really affect this fic, I totally lost motivation. I have this fic planned out to the end and do intend to finish it, however long that takes, but I'm still struggling a little with motivation and work owns my soul (10-12 hours a day, usually 7 days a week), so updates may be slow. Apologies in advance!
> 
> Also, this chapter was originally over twice as long, but I figured I'd find a good cut-off point so I could post what I had already polished - the rest still needs some work - so you guys didn't have to wait even longer. I've been working on it on and off for over a year, so if the writing seems off or drastically different from the other chapters, that's why. I'm still working on recovering my writing voice for this fic!

 

Two sets of footsteps echoed in the seemingly endless expanse of narrow hallway – one was lighter, a barely heard tap against the marble floor; the other, louder, dragged across the ground, as though the person was perfectly capable of moving silently but couldn't be bothered to.

Under the steady white-yellow light emitted by the sconces high up on the walls, Hoshi glared at the feet of the moody espada walking next to her.

She fully appreciated that he was put out – this entire situation was a right pain in the ass for everyone involved. But, honestly, _she_ was the fish out of water here; and his sullen mood, which had suddenly increased ten-fold over the course of the past hour or so, was not helping in the slightest.

Hoshi only had the vaguest recollection of what had transpired immediately after Harribel had failed to open a _garganta._ Something about checking the transmission signals in the main control room. Grimmjow must have told the blonde espada about not being able to get through to Soul Society or the world of the living, she realized now, though her muddled brain had no memory of it. The three fracción had run off to do as asked and the shinigami had been left sitting on the large marble stairway, with the two espada for silent and very awkward company.

Her panic had left her cold and imperceptibly shivering, the chill of the marble under her palms only making matters worse. Physical discomfort aside, however, her rational thought had started making a comeback. And by the time the arrancar women had returned – to report that all communications, surveillance, and other high-level forms of technology were inoperative for reasons unknown, and only the basic functions of the fortress of Las Noches were working – Hoshi had even regained some semblance of regularity in her breathing pattern.

The air of the room had stilled as this new information slowly sunk in.

'I see,' Harribel had finally said, the first one to break the heavy silence.

Grimmjow, predictably, had been far less accepting. ''You see?!' The fuck is that supposed to mean?!'

Casting a withering gaze over the brim of her collar, the blonde arrancar had quietly stated that if he had some magical solution to their predicament, she was sure they would all love to hear it; if not, he should cease his shouting and cooperate.

The Sexta Espada had muttered several curses under his breath and had scuffed the floor with his foot, but had disengaged all the same. He had feigned disinterest, Hoshi had noted, by leaning against a large column, just off to the side of their little group, and studying the ceiling intensely. She'd had no doubt, however, that at least one of his ears was carefully trained on their conversation.

'You will need a place to stay,' Hueco Mundo's ruler had continued in her low, rich voice. 'You may reside here, with myself and my fracción, until we can regain access to either Soul Society or the world of the living, and send you back.'

Gratitude didn't begin to describe what Hoshi had felt at hearing Harribel's words.

Ever since the blinding realization that she was stuck here for an indefinite period of time, her overactive imagination had been supplying her with graphic images of her roughing it in the desert: alone, armed with only her sword, a walking stick and a cloak, drinking sand and chewing on rocks and eternally running from hollow that wanted to eat her. A scenario taken right out of her worst nightmares, the kind that set upon her now only after the most stressful of days, and she'd wake up from her fitful sleep thrashing and sweating and heaving as though she'd just had a three minute sparring bout with Ikkaku. Except that it wasn't a bad dream anymore; it was real, it was chokingly, clawingly real.

Thus, she'd had every intention of leaping at the hospitality offered to her, surprise openly etched on her face – after all, out of all the hollow around, Harribel was by far the best choice; _the_ only _choice, really,_ she had mentally rectified – when she had stopped dead in her tracks.

From behind the tall, regal figure of the Tres Espada, the three fracción had glared at her, daring her to accept the offer, their unmistakable gesturing promising her a certain death if she so much as thought to do so.

At Hoshi's hesitation, Harribel had glanced over her shoulder, a slight frown creasing her brow – and her fracción had been the picture of pleasantness, nodding fervently in support of their leader. Their murderous gaze had returned the moment her attention had reverted back to the shinigami.

The peach-haired woman had politely turned the offer down – reluctant, disappointed, and fretting once more about her chances of survival on her own, but what else was she supposed to do? Pushing her luck with those three was definitely not an option. The loud two would not hesitate to cut her up into little bits the moment Harribel was not around, and the other, vitriolic one would probably dump poison into her water; the long-haired arrancar was subdued, but clearly the nastiest of the group.

'I am extremely grateful, Harribel-sama, for your generosity,' Hoshi had said, with a brief inclination of her head. 'But I must decline. I don't wish to be any more of a nuisance than I have already been. I can look after myself, and will stay out of your way.'

Harribel had dipped her head slightly further down behind her high collar, frown deepening and arms crossing in front of her chest, considering the shinigami's words; in the end, she had accepted her decision. She had then turned to Grimmjow, who had been busy still pretending none of this affected him, and in no uncertain terms had effectively assigned him to be Hoshi's chaperone for however long she remained here.

His reaction had been every bit as expected – violent, colorful, and _loud._

Hoshi chanced a glance up at him now. Still dark-faced, still sullen, hands still angrily thrust in his pockets. She let out a quiet sigh and resumed staring at her own feet.

She could completely understand Harribel's reasoning. A shinigami running loose around Las Noches, freely and unsupervised, was certainly ill-advised from any hollow's standpoint. But if she said she wasn't just as upset about this development as the blue-haired arrancar plodding along next to her, she'd be lying straight through her teeth.

The silent brooding only lasted a few more moments.

"Why the hell didn't you stay with them?" Grimmjow burst out, as they climbed another flight of stairs.

"Because I don't particularly feel like dying," Hoshi answered, her voice flat and tired.

He stopped and turned to look down at her in complete confusion from his perch a couple of steps above. "Huh?"

She frowned. Had he really not been paying attention? "Well, Harribel's fracción would have killed me if I had said yes," she explained slowly.

Grimmjow's face informed her that he obviously thought she was crazy. "Have you lost your fucking mind, Shinigami? They said they agreed with her!" he stated loudly. "And even if they didn't, doesn't matter. They're her fracción – they're gonna suck it and do whatever she says."

Hoshi held back a snort of laughter before managing to choke out a response. "You clearly don't know women."

He went blank-faced for a minute, utter bafflement overtaking his sharp features, before choosing to outright ignore her statement and go back to fuming.

"What I _do_ know is that _I'm_ stuck taking care of your sorry ass!" He marched up the last couple of stairs, each step echoing decisively in the emptiness of the stairwell. "I'm gonna make Harribel pay for this."

Hoshi took a deep breath and expelled the air in a big puff, blowing strands of hair out of her face. She tried to look on the bright side: better to be attached to this espada than to no espada at all. He was still the second-highest ranking person in Hueco Mundo at the moment. Chances were that everyone else would leave her alone as long as she didn't stray too far from him.

 _As charming and agreeable as he may be,_ she thought with biting sarcasm.

She had also noticed that there hadn't been any signs of other hollow the whole time they had been walking. Curious; perhaps the others avoided Grimmjow as a matter of course. Not that she blamed them, if that were the case.

At any rate, and far more importantly, she was relatively safe with him; he wasn't likely to harm her since he still owed her. Right?

 _Right._ Though the little voice inside her head didn't sound quite as confident as she pretended it was.

Hoshi trotted after him, pushing aside the door that he so courteously let swing in her face after having gone through himself. She took another deep breath, this time with gritted teeth.

"So, where are we going?" she asked, once she was certain that her tone only conveyed a fraction of the annoyance she actually felt.

They were now on one of the high bridges that spanned the sunlit area under the massive dome and appeared to connect the large structures scattered around to the main body of the fortress. She still couldn't see an end to the horizon, no matter which way she looked.

Bright blue eyes briefly flashed in her direction over a slouched shoulder. "Back to my tower."

That was… _unexpected,_ to say the least. Keeping a close eye on her was one thing, but Hoshi had always figured him to be highly territorial; the type that didn't share anything with anyone, first and foremost his privacy.

"… I'm staying with you?" she ventured.

"Fuck no!" Grimmjow whirled on her, jabbing a finger in her face. "You're just staying in the same building! My rooms are off limits! Take one step in and I'll fucking kill you!"

And there it was. Hoshi mentally ticked another checkmark next to her name on the ongoing scoresheet she kept tally with in her mind. "Trust me," she said, closing her eyes and waving his finger away, "I had absolutely no desire to room with you."

"Tch," he grumbled and stalked off, heading for the gray tower up ahead. "There's a couple other rooms you can pick from on the lower levels. That's as far as I'm willing to go, so that bitch better be happy."

The unnecessarily massive doors of the tower opened automatically for them when they approached.

Hoshi tilted her head slightly in confusion. _Motion sensors, maybe?_ Her eyes darted all around the doorway as she passed through it. _But I thought the power was down…_

Most unhelpfully, the two door panels swung shut behind her with a solid 'thud,' leaving her in almost complete darkness.

Blinking a few times, with her face fully scrunching up, Hoshi waited while her eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

She stood in a large, square room that was empty and undecorated save for the fluting running along the walls. Her escort was already half-way across the glassy blue floor, and she hurried to join him.

Grimmjow stopped in front of a door on the opposite side of the room.

"This here is mine," he said, jerking a thumb towards it, his face set in a mild scowl. "You can't come in."

Hoshi fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, I got that already," she replied, a strained half-smile on her face.

"Ulquiorra's place is two levels down, and Nnoitra's old rooms are on the ground floor and go into the basement," Grimmjow sounded off, almost lazily. "Pick one."

She directed her gaze at the floor as she mulled it over, biting her lower lip in thought. Despite the fact that Ulquiorra had lived with her for months in Soul Society and he had shown no interest in returning to Hueco Mundo, Hoshi felt more than a little weird at the idea of living in his old residence. Especially given his nature. She figured that she should, at the very least, have his permission.

"Who's Nnoitra?" she asked. If she was going to stay in _anyone's_ rooms, she wanted to know exactly who they were.

"Doesn't matter, he's dead," Grimmjow immediately answered, with clearly no intention of elaborating further. At her insistent stare, he let out an annoyed huff. "The fucking asshole who tried to kill me by landing a cheap shot!" He pulled the left flap of his jacket aside and pointed to the long, crescent-shaped scar that decorated his neck.

Hoshi's slender eyebrows shot up. _Oh, him._ The espada that Zaraki ultimately defeated. She'd heard more than she cared to about him, honestly, from all parties involved. Inoue in particular had shuddered quite violently when the subject had been brought up unexpectedly one day, and the peach-haired shinigami had found herself wondering at the time if it was really only battle-shaped memories that had prompted that reaction.

She decided she'd pass. At least she knew from first-hand experience that Ulquiorra's living habits entailed a great degree of cleanliness.

_Still…_

"Is there nothing else?" She practically squirmed as she asked.

Grimmjow's expression fell. Hoshi could tell, even in this low light, that he was vastly unimpressed with what, no doubt, he considered nitpicking. "What, not good enough for you?" he scoffed. "I guess there's the room the princess used when she was here."

Slate blue eyes widened, and she stared at him in disbelief. "You're offering me a _cell?_ "

"It wasn't supposed to be a cell!" he shot back. "It was for Ulquiorra's fracción, but that bastard thought he was better than the rest of us and never had any, so they just stuck the princess in there. But, yeah, there's bars now on the windows." His eyes suddenly glinted in the dark, and a feral grin split his face – the first she had seen for at least an hour or two. Grimmjow leaned in closer, face hovering over hers. "Wouldn't recommend it; makes it tough to escape from if you have to."

Hoshi – still entirely undecided as to whether she preferred the petulant and sullen Sexta Espada to the dangerously gleeful version or not – chose to ignore this evident attempt at frightening her. "So, Inoue lived next door to Ulquiorra? Did she know?"

A thoroughly disinterested shrug was her only response.

"What about Nnoitra's fracción?" she inquired. Perhaps one of their rooms was available. Perhaps –

"Tesla lived with him."

"Oh." Hoshi, thwarted, frowned and worried her lip again. She cast a glance at the arrancar (still standing uncomfortably close, she might have added) quickly running her eyes over him. Looking away at nothing in particular, she somehow worked up the nerve to clear her throat and ask her next question before the long pause became too awkward. "What about yours?"

Grimmjow blinked at her for a moment. He pulled back out of her space and nodded his head at a door further down along the wall. "Over there. But you can't use it. It's out of order."

"What do you mean?" Hoshi quirked her head. If she didn't know any better, she'd have said that his voice sounded a little strained. _But, then again,_ her mind supplied, _what else is to be expected after all the shouting he does on a regular basis?_

The blue-haired hollow walked over to the door in question and turned the handle, flinging the door open for her and stepping to the side.

Hoshi followed him. Her mouth hung open involuntarily once she beheld the all-too-familiar bright desert landscape that lay on the other side of the doorframe.

The room… well, there was no room, actually, to speak of. The floor was almost completely missing, and most of the walls were gone too. It seemed like this had once been the entrance hall to a residence that had been comprised of multiple stories, but none of those had escaped the destruction either. This place must have been blasted apart by an enormous force, she assessed, whose aftereffects looked suspiciously like those of a _cero._

A whisper of wind danced along the tops of the sand dunes below and raced up to where Hoshi was still leaning out of the doorway – _carefully –_ on the small ledge of protruding marble, to play across her face before finally coming to die in her hair.

 _Well…_ she concluded, _he wasn't_ wrong, _per se. It is most certainly uninhabitable. But… what the hell happened here?!_

Stepping back, she looked over her shoulder at the rest of the tower's interior. It was perfectly intact – the damage appeared to be contained solely to the fracción's quarters. _Definitely not due to a battle, then,_ she determined.

The shinigami faced the arrancar standing behind her.

"What happened?" she asked, hesitantly, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Grimmjow shrugged again, somewhat stiffly this time, and turned his head away from her. "Beats me."

… _right,_ she mentally drawled, continuing to stare at him. _And Soifon is my favorite captain._ Hoshi remained utterly unconvinced by his proclamation of ignorance, but decided she had more pressing matters at the moment to be poking at things that were best left alone.

She reached out for the knob to close the door. Having done so, her index finger slowly trailed along the cold, round metal until it reached the end and fell off abruptly.

"Ulquiorra's place it is, then," she stated with a long sigh. _And let's hope that when he finds out, he's in an uncharacteristically charitable mood._

Hoshi had barely finished talking when Grimmjow, without a word, took off at a fast pace. He led her back across the blue-tiled floor to where the stairwell was, down two long flights of stairs, and through another maze of hallways that, _again,_ had absolutely no distinguishing feature. By the time she realized that they had finally come to a stop in front of a plain, unmarked door, she was thoroughly disoriented.

The hollow beside her made no move, so she tried the handle.

It was locked.

 _Of course!_ Hoshi thought irritably. _Can absolutely nothing go smoothly today?_

She turned to her chaperone. "Do you have the –"

A tiny explosion sounded, as Grimmjow pointed a finger at the door handle and blew it apart with a _cero._ The door swung open inwards, a small trail of smoke still issuing from the brand new hole in the metal.

"Oh, great. That's just… just great," she muttered to herself, before confronting the blue-haired arrancar. "And how am I supposed to lock it now?"

"You're not." He smirked, placing one hand on the door to stop it from swinging back again, and waltzed in.

Hoshi felt both her hands balling up into fists as she entered the room.

 _If he thinks he can burst in whenever and entertain himself as he pleases, he's got another thing coming. I swear, I'm going to_ _kidō_ _the shit out of this door._

Still fuming, she set her bag down on the small table by the entrance and was opening her mouth to speak, when Grimmjow spun on his heel and headed right back out of the room.

"Let's go."

"Go?" Hoshi jumped, startled, forgetting for the moment that she was mad at him. "Go where?"

"To get you clothes, stupid," he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He nodded his head at her. "It's bad enough you smell like a shinigami, but you keep wearing that and you'll be someone's next meal in no time. At least try to blend in."

Hoshi stared at him, dumbfounded. The rude, homicidal hollow did have a point. For once.

With a sigh, she picked up her bag again and resignedly followed him out the door.

* * *

 

Standing in the still, dim air of the impossibly tall chamber, Byakuya silently admitted to himself that he may have made a mistake.

A quick glance to his left informed him that Kurotsuchi most certainly thought so. The man's painted visage contorted in seething impatience as he argued with one of the members of Central Forty-Six about the intricacies of operating a _garganta_ ; not that the nobles cared in the slightest.

Byakuya closed his eyes. Having once been imprisoned in the Maggot's Nest, one would have thought that this lunatic would know better than to speak out of turn here.

Still, the current head of the Kuchiki household felt a rare twinge of something that bordered on guilt as he watched the Captain-Commander's back tense up and his head turn over his shoulder to tell Kurotsuchi to stay in line. He very possibly had made a bad situation even worse.

When he had gotten the message from Akon, who had been heading the observation team monitoring Hoshi's mission, that, for reasons unknown, they had been unable to open a _garganta_ for her to return, Byakuya had headed straight over to the Twelfth Division to speak with Kurotsuchi directly. Kurotsuchi had blathered on in scientific jargon, but from what Byakuya gathered he had no idea what was happening or how to fix it. They had lost all communication with her as well. One hour became two and two became three, and still no sign of Hoshi or of Kurotsuchi showing any concern beyond utterly misplaced curiosity at the phenomenon. Finally, Byakuya had had enough. Determined not to lose an officer to another division's incompetence, he had dutifully gone and reported the incident to the Captain-Commander.

Captain-Commander Yamamoto had spent a few moments in thought before sighing in resignation and requesting an audience with Central Forty-Six.

They had not taken it well. Beginning with what they perceived to be, in the first place, the Captain-Commander's overstepping of his authority in ordering such a mission to Hueco Mundo without first clearing it with them or even mentioning the recorded disappearance of hollow.

 _Nevermind the fact that the jurisdiction of Central Forty-Six is supposed to be primarily judiciary,_ Byakuya thought to himself.

A change in the tone of the voices speaking caught his attention, and he forced himself to focuson the proceedings.

_Ah. We have moved past assigning blame to the Captain-Commander and onto declaring Hoshi defected. How ridiculous._

Etiquette was one thing, but he'd rather die than have the pride and reputation of his division smeared like this, as though the Sixth Division harbored traitors like some of its brethren.

"If I may – " Byakuya began.

"The captains will be silent!" A disembodied voice floated down to the center of the room from behind one of the numerous wooden panels that hid the members' faces. "Any further breaches of protocol will result in both divisions being confined to their barracks and placed under observation until further notice!"

Looking over to the Captain-Commander, who gave him a brief shake of his head, Byakuya bowed his head in acknowledgment and stood down.

Drawing upon years of practice, Byakuya easily schooled his features into a neutral expression and steeled himself to endure however long this pointless exchange would last.

* * *

 

Grimmjow leaned on one arm against the wall, eyebrows slightly raised, as the screeching finally died down from inside the women's changing rooms and two arrancar exited. One was fuming and breathing erratically, the other was frantically dragging the first one out into the hallway, and both were completely oblivious to his presence.

"Boo."

A strangled scream issued from one of them, though, if asked, the espada would be hard pressed to say which one. He didn't care enough to distinguish between the two – as far as he was concerned, they had both repeatedly proven to be equally stupid.

"Grimmjow!" Loly yelled accusingly, spinning around to face him.

"What do you want?" Menoly asked hurriedly, taking a couple of steps back. She seemed to be far more worried than her companion. Or maybe she just had a better memory.

Grimmjow grinned at them, teeth flashing wildly. "Just keeping an eye on our guest. Can't be too careful, you know."

"Guest?" Loly asked, confused. Not a moment later, shock contorted her face. "You mean the shinigami?!"

"Yeah," he replied disinterestedly, examining his nails. "She'll be staying here a while."

"What?! Why?!" Their indignation almost made him want to chuckle. As though they had ever been important enough for anyone to let them in on that kind of shit. Dumb chits.

"Dunno," he casually lied, not wanting this conversation to last any longer than it had to. Just listening to their voices gave him a headache. "Harribel's orders."

"That bitch!" Loly spat out. Her hands balled into fists and one foot stomped loudly on the floor. "Who does she think she is, ordering us around?! If Aizen-sama –"

"Who?" Grimmjow asked sharply, fixing her with his bright blue gaze.

Both female arrancar froze.

"Hah. That's what I thought," he smirked. Pushing off the wall in a large, lazy motion, he started sauntering towards them. "In any case, the shinigami's with me." Using _sonído_ to close in on them the last few paces, he grabbed Loly's face in one hand and powered up a _cero_ in the other. "You know what that means. Or do you need a refresher?"

Menoly, clearly torn between avoiding a repetition of last time and helping her friend, hovered just beyond Grimmjow's reach and attempted to distract him. "You're protecting shinigami now?!"

"Tch. You really are stupid," he drawled, sparing her a glance over his arm. "I'm saying that if anyone's gonna mess with her, it's gonna be me. I'm watching her for Harribel, so she's _my_ prey. Anyone who interferes" – he let the red light in his hand grow brighter – "gets blasted to bits."

The arrancar in his grasp renewed her struggling, as the other girl finally moved to help her.

With a rough shove, the espada released Loly's head, causing her to crash backwards into Menoly, and snuffed out the _cero_. "Now, beat it."

The arrancar women, despite what was clearly their best effort at maintaining composure, quickly turned tail and ran down the hall and out of sight.

Grimmjow shook his head and made his way back to his place against the wall. Of all fucking people to run into. If he'd known those two would be here, he'd have brought the shinigami along later.

He leaned his back next to the door, and slid a leg up to rest against the wall.

"Still alive in there, Shinigami?" he called into the room.

"The only thing that's dead are my eardrums." The reply was quick and snarky, albeit a little shaky.

He snorted. Good. He'd been starting to think that he was the only one who found those two irritating. Well, Harribel's three stooges wanted to kill them too, but they were just as much of a pain in the ass, so their opinion didn't count as far as he was concerned.

After a moment, curiosity got the better of him. "How the hell did you get them to leave?"

" _Kidō_ barrier, they couldn't break through to get to me." Her voice reached him slightly muffled this time, as though from behind fabric. "What's their problem, anyway?"

"Tch." Grimmjow let his eyes drift up to the ceiling, memories causing them to narrow. "They've got a sick up their asses because they used to be Aizen's personal aides. Somehow, they've become even more fucking annoying since he left."

The shinigami poked her head out of the room.

"You're joking," she said flatly. "Here, too?"

Grimmjow frowned and slightly tilted his head to the side in confusion.

Without offering any explanation, the peach-haired woman shook her head, rolled her eyes, and went back into the dressing room.

A minute or two passed in complete silence, save for the faint sound of clothes being selected, donned and subsequently discarded.

"You done in there yet?" Grimmjow asked grumpily. She was taking her sweet fucking time.

"None of this is wearable!" the woman answered.

The blue-haired arrancar grumbled. "No one's gonna care what you're wearing, come on."

"No, you don't understand!" Her voice was pitched higher, and more than a little desperate. "I can't actually _wear_ any of this – are these even clothes?!"

"For fuck's sake, let's move," Grimmjow growled. "I swear I'm gonna leave you behind!"

"No." The door remained shut. "Not until I find some proper clothes."

He slammed a fist on the door, hard enough for the whole thing to shake. "Don't make me drag your ass out of there!"

"Grimmjow!" she yelled, suddenly enough to make him jump, though he would never admit to such a thing.

"What?!" he yelled back, even louder.

There was a short, tentative pause. "Would Ulquiorra have clothes in his room?"

Grimmjow frowned. Honestly… he hadn't thought to check. But he couldn't say that. "Maybe. That bastard's always looked like the type that'd have a hundred exact copies of the same uni– "

His sentence ended in a loud, colorful string of curses as he found himself plummeting to the ground, the door that he had been leaning on now thrown wide open. Turning to look over his shoulder, he barely caught a glimpse of black robes before they completely disappeared down the hallway.

 _Heh, hope she remembers her way back,_ he thought smugly. The smirk quickly faded from his face, however, once he realized that if she did get lost and ran into trouble, it would fall on him to clear it up.

Hurrying after her, the blue-haired arrancar discovered, to his endless surprise, that the shinigami had successfully found her way to her new quarters. He grudgingly supposed that even shinigami must have some sort of primal survival instinct that reared its head in dire situations, though it would be buried way down deep in comparison to that of hollow.

Several drawers and closet doors in the bedroom had been flung open, their contents quickly scavenged through and left lying scattered on the floor. The woman had already changed into a pair of Ulquiorra's _hakama_ – slightly short for her, but she didn't seem to notice – and had appropriated one of the shirts in his closet as well. Though Grimmjow doubted the shirt was his. It was far too feminine-looking, with its form-fitting cut and low neckline, even if the shinigami hadn't been the one wearing it. Ulquiorra had probably made it for the princess. Him and his fucking weird hobbies.

Having changed into something far more familiar and, therefore, comfortable, Hoshi breathed a sigh of relief. "That's so much better."

She smiled to herself, for what was probably the first time that day. Ulquiorra's coat was too small for her – the realization that he really _did_ have an extremely narrow frame struck her once more – so she had opted for the only top in the closet that was not a carbon copy of the others. Even if the tight-fitting fabric, the lack of sleeves, and her slightly exposed midsection would take some getting used to, at least there was actual clothing covering her legs.

Her relief was palpable, bright and, most unfortunately, short-lived, as at that moment her stomach chose to emit a loud, prolonged growl.

Sincerely surprised and more than half-embarrassed, Hoshi looked at Grimmjow in a slight panic. Between the shock of being stuck indefinitely in what was, quite literally, her nightmare landscape and losing all communication with Soul Society, not to mention figuring out the intricacies of her living arrangements, she had completely overlooked what was one of a shinigami's most basic needs.

"Um…" she began hesitantly. "You guys have… food… here… right?"

It was not an option. It was what made life in Rukongai so difficult for those with spiritual power. Shinigami _had_ to eat.

"No." Grimmjow assumed a rare, serious tone and shook his head, frowning. "We don't eat that kind of food. You'll have to suck it and make do like the rest of us. Hunt hollow."

Hoshi's eyes bulged, threatening to pop right out of their sockets, and, just like that, the feeling of intense nausea and lightheadedness that she had thought she'd overcome hours ago returned with a vengeance. Bile, strong and acidic, started forming in the back of her throat. "What?!"

Grimmjow threw his head back, blue hair strands violently whipping back, and let out what could only be described as maniacal cackling. "Should've seen the look on your face, Shinigami!" Eventually (and far too long, in Hoshi's opinion; she had come back from the edge of hot, white panic terribly unamused), he got himself under control – albeit still chuckling. "Aizen brought a shit ton of – "

Whatever finer points of dining in Hueco Mundo the espada was about to divulge quickly died on his lips, as the door to the residence was slammed open, with a resounding 'crack' from where it banged against the wall.

"It'th twue!"

Hoshi, startled by the unexpected commotion, had turned to look at the doorway and found it occupied by the tiniest arrancar she had ever seen. The little teal-haired girl was flanked on either side by what the shinigami could only presume to be hollow; it was as though someone had attempted to make a kid-friendly version of the monsters and failed dismally.

Her mouth went dry.

"What do you want, Nel?" Grimmjow complained, letting his head fall back and fixing her with a disinterested stare.

The hollow child pointed a finger at him. "Gwimmjow-thama brought home a thinigami!" she stated accusingly. She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. "What are your intenthionth with the wady?"

"None of your fucking business, brat. Get lost," he said, turning his attention back to Hoshi, declaring the conversation ended.

Nel's bright round eyes became like saucers.

"Could… could it be," she said in a quiet voice, "that Gwimmjow-thama kidnapped the thinigami to fill the hole in hith heart left by Itsygo?"

Hoshi could have sworn she heard a snarl as the blue-haired arrancar glared over his shoulder, his whole body almost vibrating with tension.

Nel continued, completely unperturbed. "It'th okay, Gwimmjow-thama, Nel mitheth Itsygo too!"

"That's it!" Grimmjow roared. "Come here, you little shit!"

With all the speed and precision of a large cat, the Sexta Espada spun round on his heels and pounced on the small hollow.

One loud shriek later, Nel was promptly punted into the air and somewhere into the darkness at the end of the hallway, as Grimmjow yelled after her to shut up and that he _didn't_ care about the damn Shinigami Substitute.

"And I don't even have a fucking heart, idiot!"

The other two hollow had started to take off after the small, flying form, crying out her name in panic, when the espada grabbed the purple beetle-looking one by one of his skinny arms.

"Make her quit spitting out that bullshit or I will," he threatened.

The hollow gulped loudly and nodded his head vigorously, before taking off like the wind after his two companions.

The whole thing was surreal to Hoshi. Even given her current general situation, she decided this one interaction shot straight up through the ranks to firmly claim a spot in the top three for weirdest moments in her life. When Grimmjow turned back to her, the black look on his face daring her to make a comment – _any comment_ – she simply stared at him blankly.

"There are child hollow?" she asked slowly, her Twelfth Division-wired brain having a bit of trouble processing this new information. _Since when do hollow have children? Or_ are _children?_

"No," he stated roughly. "Just the one, and she's a pain in the ass."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hoshi thought she vaguely remembered Ichigo mentioning an arrancar kid that had helped them out; but, at the time, she had been busy laughing off Renji's tall-tale of horrifying clown-hollow that were chasing him in order to hug him because they were scared. She now granted that he may not have been exaggerating. Not in the slightest. "And the two with her are… ?"

"Her fracción. Or they used to be." His reply was brief. Whether he honestly didn't know anything about them or was simply being his usual, contrary self, she couldn't tell.

"Yes, but," Hoshi persisted, "what _are_ they? They aren't like any hollow I've ever seen. Do they… naturally… look like that?" She tried her best to not think of how their forms were closer to base, mindless hollow wandering the wilderness than to the arrancar they purportedly were. She shuddered.

"Fuck if I know." Grimmjow shrugged, as helpful with his answers as always. "But they're the ones in charge of cooking around here." He saw Hoshi's face blanch and let a smirk cut across his features. "Still wanna eat?"


End file.
